Chapter 14
A Change Is Coming

It had not gone over well when Mark returned with a sword in hand. The thing was marvelous looking and while he had no idea what made one blade superior to another he knew his was superior to most. And he did not even know how to use it! Ulley had wanted to know where he got the money for such a weapon and when Mark told him it was gift and what he was planning to do the next day things didn't get any better.

Sarah had protested his leaving so soon. He told her it was for the best and that this was what he was meant to do. Ulley had to persuade the girl he had adopted (in all but name) to let Mark follow his own path.

So here he stood looking up at Cair Paravel at the end of the road. This is where Aslan said to find the Satyr Dolmadus and the mission He had given him.

Approaching the guard at the gate, he adjusted his shirt and the new weight of the sword on his waist. Aslan had led him to a village of Red Dwarves and had approached this Master Smith. The dwarf had tuffs of red hair coming off the side his head and nothing else. His face was hard with permanent frown lines but when he had seen Aslan his whole demeanor changed and he looked younger and energetic. Aslan had asked for the smith to bring forth the sword he had recently finished.

The dwarf readily did so and then knelt before the King of Kings, holding the weapon before him. Aslan breathed on it and told the dwarf that it was the finest blade his smithy had crafted to date and said it was to go to Mark.

While the dwarf was ready to hand over the steel to the Lion, he hesitated relinquishing it to an untrained boy like himself. Mark reassured the smith that it was needed for the great chore Aslan had given him and he would need a superior blade to those that would like to deter him from it. He promised that all would know where such a fine weapon came from and would seek out his smithy to obtain such craftsmanship. It was apparently the right thing to say for the dwarf laughed and said he would be glad to help in this mission Aslan placed upon him by providing the sword.

Mark ran a hand through his hair and distantly wondered what his mother would say about him owning a sword. She had never liked it when he was smaller and would play cowboys and Indians or cops and robbers with his friends. He was never had received any toy guns or swords from his mother, she felt no need for violence, pretend or otherwise. Thankfully he had uncles that took pity on their nephew and bought him toy army guns and water balloons that looked like grenades. He had not thought of his family in so long.

Approaching a guard (a Centaur) he felt very nervous. What if they would not let him see Dolmadus? "Excuse me, sir," he said trying to sound confident. "I was told to come here and ask to see Dolmadus."

The Centaur, whose horse body was deep ebony that contrasted with his ivory skin, looked down at him and hazel eyes looked him over. "He has been expecting a son of Adam. Come with me." Before leaving his post he called over guard passing, also a Centaur, to take his place.

The Centaur did not give his name and Mark did not give his, neither inquired. It was a quiet walk as Mark followed his hoofed guide. He was obviously being led through the part of the castle the Narnian guard occupied. Nothing looked familiar from his previous trip. He briefly wondered if he'd be allowed in the kitchens again.

Stopping in front of a door the guard knocked. "Enter," a firm voice came and the Centaur motioned for Mark to go inside. Thanking him, he did so.

At a desk, next to a window sat a Satyr, hunched over a parchment he was writing on. He looked old and battle worn, the armor he wore was well used as was evident from the scars on it, both fresh and new.

"Oreius keeps trying me to get new armor, but I keep telling him no," Dolmadus said, noticing Mark looking at his gear. "What can I do for you, boy?"

Mark straightened himself and clutched the pommel of his sword. "I was told to ask for you, Sir Dolmadus."

The Satyr looked at him, and truthfully Mark couldn't tell if he had an eyebrow raised or if only his eyes grew a little larger. "And who told you to inquire after me?"

"Aslan, himself, sir."

"Lion's tails, you're him?" Now Mark could clearly see the expression on his face: surprise.

"Sir, I don't know what you speak of."

Dolmadus snorted. "Well, I have been seeking someone to train for a special line of work. I hadn't found that person until Aslan appeared in a dream to me last night saying he was sending someone who could fulfill that role." Looking Mark over he snorted again. "Fine sword you have there. Know how to use it?"

Mark gave a short laugh. "Properly? No."

The old Satyr sighed. "Brilliant. Well, if Aslan sent you to me, than he must know something that I don't." Rising from behind his desk and going to the front he stopped before Mark. "What's your name?"

"Mark, I'm from Telmar."

"Telmarine, eh?" He laughed. "Welcome to the ranks of the Royal Guard, the Mark the Telmarine." Dolmadus turned around and grabbing a parchment he wrote something down quickly. "Take this and when you go out the door make a right, take you're first left and keep going until you get the to training ground. Look for an old Faun by the name of Hellman. He'll be the only one with an eye patch. He'll get you your gear and show you the barracks."

Mark nodded and then struggled with if he should bow or salute or just turn and leave. He chose the third, as he wasn't sure how they saluted here. "Thank you, sir." Then turned and left.

Dolmadus sat back down behind his desk. "You work in mysterious way, Great Lion," he mumbled before getting back to his paperwork.

Sarah stood on a small dais in Wynn's shop as the Hare draped fabric around her waist. She stared off in the distance. Everything was changing so fast. First Ulley announces that they are leaving, that she will eventually be his heir, then she and Mark broke up. She could not say that she did not see it coming but it had been surprised and she put on a brave face so no one would think anything was wrong.

"Child, you're rather quiet," Wynn said taking the fabric off and pulling another piece around her waist. She was getting a feel of what color fabrics would look well on Sarah, as she now had to start wearing dresses – at court in the very least.

"The first time, in a very long time, I want to go home but then at the same time I don't."

Wynn raised her brow and let the fabric fall. "Lass, what's wrong."

Sighing Sarah sat down on the dais and looked the Hare in the eyes. "Mark and I…Mark is no longer courting me. He's gone up today to the palace to join the guard. My father's brother is ill, with out heir and asks for his return. And worst of all," she breathed deeply before releasing it, "I am to become a lady before this horrid ball so that I won't embarrass anyone."

Wynn laughed lightly patting the girl's shoulder. "You have more grace and comportment than many of these ladies that have come pouring into Narnia since their Majesties were crowned. I should know I've made outfits for nearly all of them. If they are not trying to scheme better standings for their family then they are trying to find the best way to lure the Kings into the marriage bed."

"Ugh! They're too young! I've met King Edmund and he looks to be around thirteen, no more. I can't believe they're trying to get him to marry them," Sarah said, her arms being thrown wide as she spoke. "I haven't met King Peter, but he couldn't be any older than I am."

Wynn chuckled and looked as if she was going something but thought better of it. "Have you decided what you'll be wearing to the ball?"

Sarah did not notice the change in subject. "I was planning on going in a dress though if they changed the rules I'd be glad to go in pants."

That girl and her trousers, they were never far from her mind when talk of clothes was in the air. "No, lass, they haven't but what I meant as your costume. Have you decided what you're going to go as?"

Sarah obviously had not heard of that detail as her eyes nearly jumped out of her head and she sputtered to answer the seamstress. "Good heavens, is not a dress punishment enough?"

Wynn laughed and patted her cheek. "Oh, trust me, one day you'll wonder how you wore anything but dresses."

"I highly doubt that."

Wynn ran her hand over one of her long ears and thought for a moment before answering. "Well, I do have one design for you, hasn't been worn in nearly a hundreds, of course, but it will make you stand apart from the rest of the requests. Lionesses, nymphs and naiads the lot of girls that have plagued the castle have requested of me. Few unique ones and I know this one hasn't been requested."

"I don't want to stand out! Make me a nymph, so I can hide better," Sarah said, her voice imploring the Creature. Wynn laughed once again and told Sarah to stand up so she could better plan for her outfit. Sarah just sighed and did as she commanded.

Wynn never told her what her costume would be.

He watched her leave the Hare's business and quietly her. She did not see and was not suppose to. He watched her as that Fox went to her side. The Fox made some ridiculous comment and she laughed.

She would be his and through her would get what was rightfully his. What should have been rightfully given to his family after 100 years of winter. Yes, she would be his and through her his line would continue. He would take what was to have been given to him when the White Witch was dead not those toddlers that now graced the throne and paraded around as Kings and Queens. He would cause no war nor kill them off just yet. No he was biding his time, lurking, watching, and gather as much information as he could. He had to win over the Fell Beasts first and that would be a little more difficult as many had pledged themselves to those pretenders on the thrones to rectify their past doings.

For now though, he would hide in the shadows and wait for the right moment. Wait for when taking her would hurt him the most. For he wanted it to hurt him, his rival, the most, he want him to feel secure and confident in the fact that he had that dark hair beauty all to himself only to have her taken and then become his.

He watched her hips sway as she walked farther and farther away. He wanted to run his hands over those hips and feel her tanned skin under his hand and to feel his fingers in that thick, dark hair. He wanted to see the mixture of pleasure and panic in her eyes that he had seen in others, but with her he did not want to end her life afterwards like the others. No, he wanted to prolong it over years.

The smile that graced his face was cold, malevolent and if anyone had seen it they would not have been inclined to return it, but rather flee. He like it when his victims would flee from him in terror only to be cut down in their flight, it gave him great pleasure to see the last emotion to contort their faces was fear.

He loved the taste of fear.

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