Chapter Two: Departure

It's a wonderful ship Gill. Don't you agree Goaty?"

"My name is Almonzo."

"Right my good fawn, Almonzo Goaty."

Trophemes playfully dodged the fawn's horns, arms and hoofs. Like two young children, the fawn chased the human around the dock. Almonzo caught Trophemes with his short horns tearing the lightly woven material of his shirt and making the boy yelp and laugh all the harder. Jumping across the open space of water onto the ship Trophemes yelled at the Prince "Gill, tell your fawn to let me live." Almonzo rounded the corner and galloped toward Trophemes preparing to vault over the expanse between him and his prey. Trophemes cowered on the deck awaiting the onslaught of the fawn's fury. As the fawn neared the ship his anger disappeared to be replaced by a look of surprise and shock, and finally terror as he skidded to a stop at the edge of the pier.

Gale came running up behind him gasping for breath. "Almonzo, don't hurt Troy."

Almonzo backed wearily away from the water's edge as Gale climbed onto the ship, pulling himself up by the rigging. The fawn looked evilly at Trophemes standing safely on the ship then stamped away.

Trophemes helped his friend onto the deck. "I'm glad you came along, I was sure he was going to murder me." Trophemes smiled. "All I did was call him 'Goaty'."

Gale's eyes followed the fawn's retreat. "If you want to avoid being murdered on this trip I wouldn't call him that again. From what I've heard he had a sweetheart who was a goat. Apparently things didn't go well."

"It must have been when he was younger." Trophemes said laughing.

"Yes."

"When do we sail?"

"Three days," said Gale gazing out to sea.

"That's not soon enough for you, is it?" Gale shook his head. "Everything's ready, why not sail sooner?"

"My Father talked me into staying until the Great Summer feast the end of this week. It's bad enough for him that I'm leaving at all, the least I can do is stay for the feast."

"He's pretty anxious to see you married?"

"Very." Gale sighed. "I don't understand him. He acts as though picking a wife is an easy decision. I'm not ready to marry."

"You're lucky your father is letting you choose, a Calormen Lord arrived at our ranch last month to promise his daughter in marriage to Lenard."

Lenard was Trophemes' older brother.

"What did your father say?"

"Being the painfully fair man he is he told the Lord a girl of twelve is too young to marry and he would never agree to a marriage against the will of any girl. Which was very proper and gracious but what if he says that about every young lady I bring home for them to meet? Anyway, she was too pretty for someone like Lenard."

"Oh, and I suppose she'd be better suited for someone like you?"

"Well, now that you mentioned it, yes."

Gale pushed his friend into the railing. "That's easy for you to say," the Prince said gloomily, clutching the rail and staring at the sea, "I'm the one being forced to marry."

Trophemes gripped his friends shoulders turning him around. "We sail in three days, just you, me, and that fawn Almonzo. We'll go and have a good time and not even think about marriage or girls or anything. For two whole weeks, what do you say?" Gale smiled.

That night Gale went to bed late. He and Trophemes had been pouring over maps for hours, plotting their course, and he was tired. Snuggling into his warm bed, Gale fell asleep.

Gale's heart rejoiced at the feel of cool water against his skin. Warm sun shone down on him as he swam and frolicked in the stream. Unnoticed as he swam, dark storm clouds began to gather over his head dumping rain down on him. Trees along the stream offered shelter from the down pour and Gale made his way to them. But how ever far he waded the bank never seemed to grow any nearer, in fact it seemed to be getting further away. It was like standing on a departing ship with the tide pulling it out to sea, watching the coastline disappear in the horizon. But he was walking towards not away from the land. Almost before he knew it, he was no longer wadding but swimming, swimming in a storm tossed sea.

He swam and swam, until he could swim no longer and ocean breakers crashed over his head. Deep down under the waves it pushed him. Above him the storm raged and pounded, but among the clatter of the storm he heard another sound; a lion's roar. Then he was rushing up, up to the air. With a splash his head burst through the water's surface. It was dark and he was sitting in a metal tub like the one his nurse used to wash him in when he was young. It was so dark he could not see the person but he could feel someone wiping his face roughly with a rage, a course, rough, towel, like a cat's tongue.

He opened his eyes, it was dark. The dying fire's light dimly showed the rafters. He had been dreaming, but if it had been a dream why was the person still washing his face with the rough rage? He was soaking wet with sweat and shivered. It seemed the person lost patience and began clawing their fingernails down his face. With his eyes still closed he tried to push away the person standing there. Silky hair and whiskers met his finger tips- then jerked away as he felt something moist. He was laying in his bed staring up at a lion.

Gale knew at once who it was, Aslan, the Great Lion, Creator of Narnia. He stood beside Gale's bed looking at him with big, meaning filled eyes; eyes which even the wisest, oldest man alive could never fathom. Never had Aslan appeared to him, he had always spoken to his father the King. Now facing Aslan alone Gale was afraid.

"Prince Gale," the Lion bellowed in his low growling voice, "you must leave immediately. There is going to be a great storm that will blow up suddenly from the North and hinder you departure. By the time the storm subsides, your ship will be destroyed and you will be too late."

"Too late for what, Aslan."

"For the task I have appointed you. You must leave immediately. Wake your friends and go to the ship. I will tell your father myself what is happening. You must go quickly."

"Aslan..."

"Go child. Do not be afraid, I will always be with you."

As his last words echoed in the darkness the Lion vanished into the night.

I do not own any of the land of Narnia or the surrounding islands, Aslan, or Prince Gale; they belong to C. S. Lewis. I do not have permission from the author to use these, I am not making money on this story either.