Mark of the Banished

by Salandra Wolfe

  Charwin shook his head, not looking convinced. “No matter. We must find that sword. I am certain it will show up eventually. This is a huge event that will impact Algar’s future for years to come. Perhaps the sword will help us make this crisis as small as possible.”

  “If it already has a new master, neither of us will be able to wield it,” Caspian protested. If they could find Mepherius, it would be the easiest way to get rid of Devin and place Caspian back on the throne. But the prince had a gut feeling the sword wasn’t going to help them this time. He was almost certain he was going to have to take back the kingdom with his own effort.

  “The wielder of Mepherius is always a good person who is brave and willing to help others,” Charwin declared with certainty. “Unless the wielder has some enormous crisis of their own on their hands, they will help us.”

  Caspian nodded. The wizard was right, of course. He seemed to be right about everything. “But we have no idea where to start looking for it. And what if the sword has no wielder, and it doesn’t choose us?”

  Charwin gave Caspian a serious stare that told him to stop doubting and start hoping. “The sword will come to us. It has an affinity for your kingdom, remember? It will find its way back to help. We at least have to try to find it. And if that were the case, we would search far and wide to find its wielder.” He paused, and his gaze softened. “Hope is all you have, Caspian, so I suggest you hold onto it.”

  The wizard strode from the room, and Caspian watched him go, and as the silence filled the room, the emptiness in his heart swelled up, threatening to drown him. He took a deep breath and focused on the ray of hope the wizard had given him. Perhaps the sword would find them and save them, but in the meantime, they needed a backup plan. Caspian tried to concentrate on the strategy training he had received. They would need men, a lot of them, in order to take back the kingdom. They also needed a way into the kingdom and precise timing that would catch the new rulers off guard. He was certain many of his loyal men were in prison, waiting for him to break them out so they could fight for him again. Perhaps Charwin had some wizard friends who would be willing to help them sneak into the castle and break them loose.

  Caspian’s heartbeat increased as his brain leaped on the beginnings of the plan, refining it and making it seem more plausible. He could travel through his kingdom in disguise, rallying support to his cause. Maybe it wouldn’t be too difficult to convince the people to follow him despite the brand mark. It would all depend on how Devin was ruling the kingdom, but Caspian suspected his people would suffer greatly, and soon, if they weren’t already.

  The wizard Devin was their main concern. While Caspian led his men against Devin and Ryland’s soldiers, the wizards Caspian would hopefully enlist could find Devin and deal with him, distracting him from the main battle. Meanwhile, Caspian would attempt to convince Ryland to return to the right side of things—assuming Devin hadn’t already killed him.

  Caspian grinned, ignoring the fresh wave of pain his cheek sent at him reproachfully. If he could find enough wizards, it was a solid plan. All he needed was action and time to pull it all together. Patience was the key to this situation. And while they gathered forces, they could search for the sword, and if they found it, the battle would already be won for them. If not, the plan alone would have to suffice.

  Charwin returned to the room and smiled at his charge. “You look happy. What makes this so?” He placed down a bowl of water, a rag, and a few bottles on the table by Caspian’s bed. Caspian gazed up into the wizard’s green eyes.

  “I have a plan,” he said simply.

  Charwin’s face turned grave, and he nodded slowly. “I was hoping you would. I am no leader nor plan-maker, but I would expect that you are. I will hear your plan and help you execute it after I take care of your wound. I’m afraid we might not have much time. Your kingdom will soon be ravaged by the dark wizard and the imposter prince. Your people will suffer.” Charwin picked up the rag and, after muttering a soft spell that made his hands and the rag glow, leaned very close to Caspian’s face, where the bandage peeled off and floated away. “Hold still. It is time for your daily burn cleaning.”

  Caspian went motionless, and soon he felt the cold touch of water brushing his skin as Charwin carefully but thoroughly washed the wound. Caspian knew Charwin was right. The longer the plan took, the more people would get hurt. But they would need time. Failing to take the kingdom this time would result in his death. There would be no more second chances. They would need to find the perfect timing for the strike against the kingdom. The people’s afflictions under the dark wizard might make them more willing to help the exiled prince, but Caspian didn’t want his people to suffer for long.

  Caspian winced as Charwin prodded a particularly sore spot on his face, taking special care not to move his injured cheek.

  Imposter prince, Caspian heard Charwin’s voice repeat in his head. Charwin didn’t see things like Caspian did, didn’t see that Ryland truly was a good person, just deceived. Caspian wished his new friend could understand where he was coming from, but he knew that too would take time. Eventually Charwin would understand who Ryland really was in his heart.

  After a few minutes, Charwin withdrew, having succeeded in cleaning the wound to perfection. He spoke to Caspian in a soft voice as he put healing and numbing salves on it. “You need to be extra careful about how you move your cheek. I’m not entirely sure how deep this wound extends, but I suspect it has reached the muscle. Aggravating it may cause you to lose all movement there. I can tell you don’t have full control over your cheek, and you must not make it any worse. Do you understand?”

  Caspian nodded carefully, and Charwin smiled in approval. Once the whole process was over and the bandage was back on, Charwin sat back down in his chair and fixed Caspian with a piercing look. “Now that that is taken care of, tell me your plan.”

  Caspian smiled with the left side of his mouth. “With pleasure.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Caspian sat up in bed, gently tracing the ridges of the scar on his cheek, the image he knew so well, for it was engraved on everything he had owned as a child. The burn sent twinges at him as he touched the damaged skin, but he ignored them. He sighed and dropped his hand, then practiced lifting only the left side of his mouth when he smiled, wincing when he failed and the skin on his right cheek stretched.

  Sighing again, he reached for a bandage Charwin had left on the side table and stuck it to his face with the magic Charwin had cast onto it. The wizard had departed a week prior, directly after hearing Caspian’s plan. Before leaving, he had given the prince strict instructions on how to bandage and care for his wound, and also other unnecessary instructions such as, “Don’t move.”

  Caspian was sticking to these instructions faithfully, but he was bored. His face was in ruins, he could barely stand because it required too much strength, and he didn’t have anything to do except think about all the things he had done wrong to get himself into this situation.

  It almost made him wish he was fighting with Ryland again.

  The front door slammed open, and a figure burst into the house, startling Caspian so badly he jumped and his face stretched painfully. Placing his hand over his cheek, he peered at the figure, relaxing when he saw Charwin.

  “Are you okay?” Charwin asked, frozen where he was standing by the door, which swung closed behind him.

  “I’m good,” Caspian said stiffly, his hand still on his cheek. “Just in a lot of pain, which is normal.” He felt tears threaten as the burn scolded him further for his folly.

  Charwin shook his head and tutted. “Did you do the things I told you to do?” He walked over to the table by Caspian and surveyed it. “It looks like you did,” he said with an amused tone.

  Caspian glanced over and saw that the table was a complete mess, with water and potions leaking out onto it, and random bandages, both clean and dirty, thrown everywhere. He felt himself blush with embarrassment. “Well, in my defense,
you told me not to move, except to use the privy, so I couldn’t get up to go throw anything away or clean anything up. I’m not really at fault here.”

  Charwin straightened and stared at him with a concerned expression, and Caspian instantly felt self-conscious. He sat in silence as the bandage on his face floated away, and Charwin looked even closer.

  “What?” he finally asked him, starting to feel very uncomfortable. “Why are you staring at me?”

  Charwin shook his head slowly. “Your right cheek’s pigmentation must be off because of the burn. I mean, I knew it was discolored, but when you blushed, it didn’t change at all.” He cast about for something, and, apparently not finding it, he left the room.

  Caspian peered after him, putting a careful hand onto his cheek. Discolored? What did his cheek really look like?

  Charwin came back into the room holding something between his hands. “I know this will be a shock to you, but I think it’s time for you to know.”

  Caspian looked closer at the object in the wizard’s hands, trying to discern what exactly it was. Maybe it would help him understand what in the world Charwin was talking about.

  “I’m sorry. I did my best to minimize the damage, but it wasn’t enough. The wound was just too serious.”

  With a start, Caspian realized what was in the wizard’s hands—a mirror. He was going to show Caspian his face. With dread, he watched as Charwin held the mirror out to him, seemingly in slow motion. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

  From far away, he watched his own hand reach out to accept the mirror, pale and shaking. Slowly, he lifted the mirror up to eye level while closing his eyes.

  Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

  Caspian gasped. He didn’t know anything could look that disgusting.

  The lines of the Algarian symbol were a brown so dark that it was almost black. The skin immediately around the lines was a lighter shade of brown, only a slight discoloration from his normal skin tone. Then, on the outer reaches, away from the actual scarring, the skin was red, as if it was inflamed. The lines of the symbol were raised and ragged, and there were several scars from cuts littering the burn, some lighter in color and others darker.

  His face looked like a mashup of several different wounds, and it wasn’t pretty. In fact, it was downright ugly.

  “The severity of the discoloration will probably fade with time, but I don’t think it will ever go away,” Charwin said softly from over Caspian’s right shoulder.

  Caspian’s eyes were glued to the mirror, and he noticed how the burn area stood out severely from the paleness of the rest of his face.

  Charwin sighed softly. “I’m worried that with time we will discover this wound is more serious than we ever imagined.”

  Caspian shook his head slowly. “No. It didn’t kill me, and I thought it would. It can’t be more serious than that.”

  Charwin didn’t respond, but he took the mirror out of Caspian’s hands.

  Caspian dropped his head, staring at the bedcovers but not really seeing them. All he could see was that terrible blight, a symbol that had once been so beautiful but now looked so ugly. After a few moments of silence, and after a few tears had already made the trek down Caspian’s face, he broke the silence.

  “When do you think I’ll be able to walk around?”

  He heard Charwin moving about, probably cleaning up the table. “You can start walking around a bit today, and you’ll get stronger as we go along. I certainly hope you’ll be up and running soon, because the wizards I gathered won’t be happy about waiting long.” There was a sly edge in his voice, and Caspian could tell it was bait.

  He took it and shot his head up. “You managed to gather some good wizards?” he asked, his tone shocked and his spirits lifting. If Charwin really had found more wizards willing to help their cause, it meant they might actually have a chance.

  Charwin scoffed lightly from the other room, before coming back into the bedroom, drying a dish. “Don’t make it sound like it was some huge feat. I am pretty popular in the wizard community.”

  Eyeing the dish in his friend’s hands, Caspian asked, “So they’re committed to helping the cause?”

  Charwin nodded and went back into the kitchen to grab another dish, coming back shortly. “Yes. They are putting their things in order before they gather here. The first of ’em will probably arrive in about three days, and it will probably take a week to gather the rest of them. They are all very excited to learn more about Algar while serving you, and they’ve committed to being in this battle for the long haul, so I hope you’re ready with some more of your excellent plans.”

  Caspian nodded and grinned, the left side of his face pulling up farther than he thought possible. “Oh yes, I have very good plans in mind, very good plans indeed.” He rubbed his chin, his mind briefly wondering how many people lived outside Algar before racing on to the possibilities these wizards offered to his plan. “How many?”

  “Around twenty, give or take a few,” Charwin responded, flicking the towel and going back into the other room.

  Caspian felt his heart soar. Twenty wizards! That was more than he could have ever imagined! He knew exactly what he wanted each of those twenty wizards to do . . . if only they could get here sooner so they could start now!

  “It’s time for your first walking lesson,” Charwin announced, coming back into the room and grinning at Caspian’s prone form. “I’m sure you want to go out there and help your people as soon as possible.”

  Caspian’s heart sank. Of course he wanted to go and help his people, if not just to show them he cared about them, but the short trips to the privy—some on his hands and knees—had proven strenuous and, most importantly, painful.

  Sighing, Caspian slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stayed there, staring down at the wooden floor. Finally, he raised his eyes and grabbed Charwin’s outstretched arms.

  “Right. Here we go.”

  “This is the worst,” Caspian whined three days later. He was leaning against a cabinet, breathing hard. Charwin watched from nearby, an amused and yet concerned expression on his face. He was poised, ready to catch the prince should he fall.

  Caspian straightened and took a step, then stopped again to catch his breath. “Why is walking so difficult?” he asked through breaths. “I was only in bed for just over a month, and yet here I am, worse at walking than a toddler!” He rested his forehead on a nearby wall and exhaled slowly, nearly toppling over with the movement. Blinking back tears of frustration, he tried to remain calm but failed miserably.

  “Caspian, I know this is frustrating for you, but you have to keep trying. You’ll only get better with effort.” Charwin took a step forward and raised a cold, wet cloth to his forehead. “Perhaps you should get back into bed, though. I don’t want you to catch another fever.”

  Caspian nodded and gulped in mouthfuls of air. “Yes, let’s do that, please.” He lifted his arm, and Charwin slid under it, practically dragging the prince back to his bed.

  Caspian flopped down onto his back with a huff and exhaled, his breath catching his hair and sending it upward, only for it to come crashing back down right into his eye.

  Caspian groaned and rolled over, putting his hand to his eye to brush the errant hair out of the way. “Hmmph,” he mumbled into the bed. “That hurt.” He sat back up and raked a hand through his hair, eyeing Charwin, who was busily preparing medicine by the side table and periodically glancing over at him.

  “Here,” Charwin offered, holding out a flask of purple liquid to the prince. Caspian took it and gulped it down, gagging at the taste.

  “It’s not tasty, I know, but it will help you,” Charwin remarked, not looking up from stoppering his bottles.

  Caspian laid back in bed and sighed. He didn’t normally get this frustrated, but . . . “Charwin,” he said softly.

  His friend looked up, catching the serious expression in his eyes. Turning slowly to face him, the bottle still in hand,
Charwin raised an eyebrow at the young man.

  “I—I’m worried I won’t be better soon enough. If I can’t fight, I can’t take the throne back. It needs to happen soon.”

  Charwin sighed and dropped the hand holding the vial down to his side, bringing his other hand up to wipe his face. “I know,” he reflected quietly. “All we can do is hope and try harder.”

  Caspian stared at him for a moment, then nodded, sitting up in bed again. “Okay. You’re right. Give me a moment, and I’ll try again.”

  Charwin smiled at him and offered him a cup of water from a nearby table, which Caspian gladly took and drank from. While he was in the middle of gulping down the liquid, a loud knock sounded on the door. The prince choked, some of the water burning into his lungs as the rest of it came shooting out of his mouth. He doubled over, coughing, not able to control which side of his face moved, so the coughing felt like agony.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charwin blink, seeming stunned for a moment by the water that had been sprayed all over him. Charwin grimaced and finally wiped his face with the back of his hand hesitantly. Another knock sounded, and he came to his senses, springing to answer the door.

  “Charwin! I am here!” a voice exclaimed. The man had a strong accent that lilted his words in the middle of the vowels, making it hard to understand him.

  “Reen!” Charwin said. “I’m surprised you got here first!” He motioned the new person into the house, and the man stepped in, looking around.

  Caspian had managed to get his coughs under control, but he still felt the burning sensation from when the liquid had gone down his windpipe, and his cheek was throbbing from all the movement, but he was able to quickly take a look at the newcomer. The man was wearing trousers and a shirt like an ordinary farm worker. He was also wearing a floppy hat that drooped into his eyes, and he brushed it away with an absent-minded gesture, revealing a shock of blond hair.