Prologue:
The Ancient Centaur leaned cautiously over the proffered cradle, "What have you called the young one?" He asked.
"Ram" replied the infant's Father.
"It is a strong name, for one who will need much strength." Quoth The Ancient One.
"Althuniel and Alagorn have danced tonight, and the skies have much to say about the future of the young one. Whether he will live a long and prosperous life They did not say, but he will save Archenland from a far graver danger than even that which his father saved her. I cannot promise him great happiness, but I can foretell greatness, for hearken unto me, he will be remembered as the greatest king that Archenland has ever known."
Cor and Aravis turned to go, shocked by what the had heard, but were halted by the sound of the Centaur's voice.
"One last prophecy I have seen for the young one. Artemis has come late to the dance, and she tells this of your son's life and death: That his work will not be done until the Ram has laid down as the Lion, and the Lion with the Ram."
Chapter 1
It was a gorgeous sunrise over the Archenlandish fishing village of Kiln, but no one stirred to see it. No smoke curled as it ought from the chimneys of the tiny hamlet. The scene would have been almost picturesque had it not been for the unsettling air of indolence. In what should have been a veritable beehive of activity, the town more resembled an abandoned cocoon of some long gone prehistoric butterfly.
A sail appeared on the horizon, but there was no one to see it. An entire ship cropped up, but only the gulls observed it. The sail seemed to sit almost unmoving on the calm water. The sun moved higher in the sky but still no sign came of the inhabitants of Kiln.
"What think you, Hasheem?"
"I cannot say sir, every other time we have passed this village it seemed busy enough."
"Well, we cannot simply pass it by, bring her in for a closer look."
The king sat in his room, eating his breakfast as always. That morning he had awoken at dawn as always. His clothes had been laid out as always. Everything always was as it always had been for King Ram of Archenland. No wars had occurred during his reign, there had never been an economic crisis, and his people always seemed to get along. Indeed, the biggest disturbance during his tenure as king had been the fault of leaky pipes in the servant's quarters.
So it was somewhat surprising to the king when his chamberlain came calling on his quarters during his breakfast. In fact, Ram was quite shocked by the early appearance of the normally punctilious faun.
"What business has you in such a hurry today Darius?"
"If you will excuse the abstracted manner of my visit this early in the morning sire, someone is here demanding an audience with your grace."
"Well, who is it, Darius."
"A ship's captain, Milord. From Teribinthia."
"What could he want from Archenland, I thought they only traded with Calormen."
"I do not know Milord, but he claims his mission is urgent, and of some import to Archenland."
"Very well, arrange an appointment for us to meet in one hour."