Spock had clearly sensed Jim's mood. He had never understood human intuition and was not entirely sure that he believed in it but there had been times when no other logical explanation had been possible. He forced himself to dismiss his bondbrother from his thoughts and prepared for the mission. Assisted by three of his scientists, Lt T'Qal, Lt T'Ria and Ensign Sudur, he must attempt to analyse the object now sending its signal to another galaxy. Spock surmised that a sophisticated computer of some type must control it. If so, it might be possible to reprogram it and return the beacon to its former silent mode.

After sensors had confirmed that the nearest human life-forms were close to the settlement, Spock ordered beam down. The landing party materialised in a forest clearing. Scorch marks marred the greenery. Some blackened trees were strewn along the ground, and others were half tilted over. At the centre was the imposing sight of the obelisk. No damage from the invader weapons was visible on its surface. Standing fifty metres tall, supported by solid struts, it was constructed of a grey material whose smoothness was broken only by large runic symbols carved into the sides. Steps led to a surrounding platform where tributes of fresh flowers and fruit lay in open baskets.

"Fascinating," Spock said. "Commence scanning."

The four Vulcans circled the monument and proceeded with their task in a methodical fashion, but it soon became clear that little could be learned from this type of investigation. The monument was resistant to all their probes and the only reading, which registered, was the signal emissions.

"Sir, I would postulate that this material is alien to the planet," Lt T'Ria said. She was an expert in planetary geology and had voiced Spock's own private assessment.

"Agreed." With caution Spock walked up the steps and placed a tentative hand on the surface of the obelisk. It was warm to touch and not only from the sun for it seemed to pulse with an inner heat. Spock's fingers slid across the carvings gently feeling indentations, which had remained unaffected, over many centuries, by the elements.

"Sir," Ensign Sudur said. "Large concentration of life-forms approaching this location from the east. They are at present one point six kilometres away."

"Precise numbers are necessary, Ensign," Spock rebuked.

"One hundred humans, sir." The young Vulcan looked up from his tricorder and his eyes showed a quickly repressed flicker of emotion. He was one of the new crew, still immature, but an excellent prospect for junior science officer duties in the future.

"We shall conceal ourselves in the forest."

"Where, sir?" Sudur asked, looking around him.

"From a vantage point in the trees," Spock replied. "The foliage will conceal us."

There was a touch of surprise even from the two more experienced officers but they followed Spock's example as he walked to the shade of the trees and climbed to safety. Spock heard the humans well before they came into view. They spoke in an unfamiliar dialect but his translator implant resolved the problem within seconds.

"Their temple is close," a harsh male voice said. "If we destroy it then we damage their barbarian faith. Their false gods will not withstand our might. Mars, god of war, has shown us his power. He supports our glorious empire."

Loud cheers went up from many throats. These then are Roman troops, Spock realised.

As the noise of their approach grew, he continued with his train of thought. Hodgkin's Theory is a fascinating one. The samples listed in the archives are each at a different stage of development but Llangia with its invading Roman empire seems very close to Terran history circa third or fourth century on the old calendar. Which country does this occupied land mirror? There are no facts as yet but Jim would somehow find an answer. I am not adept at speculation but I will try. It had been many years since his study of Earth's turbulent history but Spock focussed on his knowledge of the Roman period. After a skim through the main historical events he turned his attention to the present.

How did this place fit in with events? It was part of an island in the Northern Hemisphere of Llangia. If the parallel was that close, it was in all probability the country then known in Terran history as Britannia. On the empire's farthest frontier, old Britain had given Rome a great deal of trouble. Consisting of many small nation states the island's importance had been such that several emperors had themselves led their troops against its stubborn tribes.

To the north lay an inhospitable, wild country, now known as Scotland, inhabited by a fierce warrior nation. It was these - the Picts - who had driven the Roman invaders out and in response a wall had been built across a narrow isthmus to keep the Pictish warriors from marauding in the more peaceful south. The Roman Empire had not survived the centuries but that ancient Terran country with its rich and bloody history had traditions, which still continued to the present day. Spock turned his head as if to speak to Jim about it then remembered that his t'hy'la was aboard the T'Varon. He sighed. Later they would have interesting discussions about the subject for Kirk had once told him that his distant ancestors had emigrated from Scotland to the then British colony of the Americas.

As the humans drew nearer and burst into the clearing, Spock dismissed these thoughts. Soldiers dressed in costume remarkably similar to the Romans of Terra surrounded the obelisk. One man, grizzled, muscular and obviously the leader, climbed up to the platform and raised his sword. "I Prefect Gaius Senoka, do claim this place for our lord commander; Legate Flavius Dominicus and our Emperor Augustus Maximus." He gestured to the damaged greenery. "See the work of our war god. He has challenged and defeated the false barbarian god. He waits for us to claim this place of worship for himself and his sister, Minerva, goddess of battle."

The soldiers, who now ringed the obelisk, raised their shields and drawn swords. "To Mars and Minerva," they shouted in unison.

"I dedicate this temple to our warrior gods and claim their protection against the barbarians," Senoka cried. He took a dagger from a sheath on his belt and tried to gouge some of the carvings on the monument. "I obliterate these symbols of the false god. " His face grew flushed and his eyes bulged, his body arched and he suddenly began to scream.

For a second Spock glimpsed an energy field emerging from the walls of the structure to surround the Roman's body. It was, he assumed, a protective device activated by that attempt to damage the surface. He glanced at his tricorder to see it record a power surge of immense proportions. Would these defences have been strong enough to have responded to the space ship that had fired on it? he wondered. It seemed plausible given the range of the beacon signal and if the Preservers were as powerful as the tales suggested.

Senoka stumbled and fell down the steps to land in a heap on the ground. His men had assumed battle stance but Senoka, ashen now and soaked in sweat, gasped, "No. We must leave this evil place. Help me to my feet."

Two men dragged their commander away. "Sir, what happened?" one of them asked.

"Their god is angry. Retreat," Senoka cried before slumping unconscious against the soldiers.

The men lifted their commander and began a disciplined withdrawal back in the direction they had come. When it was confirmed that the Romans were a sufficient distance away, Spock climbed down the tree. As he awaited the others, he again checked his tricorder and found that the obelisk readings had returned to their previous pattern.

"Fascinating," Sudur said. "Why did the force field not manifest itself when Commander Spock touched the obelisk?"

"The commander posed no threat to it," Lt T'Qal replied.

"All things should be treated with reverence," Spock said. The younger Vulcan's head was tilted to one side and Spock realised there was a further question waiting to be asked. "Yes, Mr Sudur?"

"Sir, it is noticed that Commander Kirk treats thee with profound reverence," the youngster said, a faint flush gathering at his eartips.

Spock sensed disapproval from the other two over this personal comment. It was indeed an invasion of privacy but proud of his relationship with Jim, he replied, "We are t'hy'la." The youngster could interpret that any way he chose to.

Spock swivelled round to look at the obelisk. "Maintain watch, Ensign Sudur," he ordered. "Lt T'Qal, Lt T'Ria accompany me."

The three walked up to the platform and at Spock's command began to explore the obelisk's surface with light touches. After what had happened to the Roman, it was a dangerous procedure but a necessary one for it was logical to assume there was an entrance somewhere, which would allow them to enter and attempt repairs. However, an hour of painstaking work revealed nothing and Spock reported their failure to the captain.

"Stay and observe for a planetary day," T'Zen said. "Do not attempt anything which might be interpreted as hostile. Your proximity is essential to our studies now for our instruments were unable to read the earlier surge. It is Mr Kirk's opinion that the obelisk's signal interferes with the T'Varon's sensor grid. If there are further changes in the power levels, report it at once."

"Affirmative, Captain. Inform Mr Kirk that I concur with his opinion. Spock out." He turned to the others. "We will make camp. We will eat then Lt T'Qal and I will take first watch, followed by Lt T'Ria and Ensign Sudur. Each watch will be of two hour duration."

As they sat eating their rations and drinking some welcome cool water, Spock thought of Jim and again wished that his bondbrother were here. He seemed to work better when Jim was beside him. Why this was so he did not fully comprehend. It was one of the mysteries of being t'hy'la, he presumed. Little was known about the relationship for it happened to so few. He had studied the texts, the poetry, and the legends, all of which told of this bond, which surpassed all others. It was incongruous that this link should be so revered for with the exception of the marriage bond, such emotion was frowned upon and suppressed. It was only known that the mind knew no boundaries and if it found its soul-twin a life bond was formed. With a touch of guilt, Spock reflected that there were times when he did not treat Jim with enough respect or openness. For example over Jim's curiosity about T'Sal and Stern's Pon Farr. Why had he not revealed the details? It was Jim's right to know for one day it would be his duty to stand witness at Spock's own bonding ceremony.

I will inform him on my return, he promised himself.

With reluctance Spock dismissed his thoughts, stood up and returned to the structure. It was time to continue his observations but later during his rest break he did not sleep and instead slipped into a relaxing meditative state. It was difficult to maintain as his thoughts flowed towards the events leading to the discovery of his t'hy'la. A startling enough find in itself but for one to be half-Vulcan and the other human! He reached for the psi link between them and, with gentle touches, tested it. The bond seemed to have strengthened and Spock wondered if it would be possible to communicate with Jim from a distance. According to the texts it could be done but he had not yet dared to try.

A sudden wave of unease swept through Spock's mind. It did not originate from himself so he traced the source of the sensation along the link. In the past he had been able to sense Jim's thoughts, at times without touch, but only when near him. Yet this seemed like some kind of message from Jim and he marvelled at this ability from a psi-null human. Taking a deep breath he decided to attempt further contact. Perhaps he would be able to reassure Jim that he was not in any danger. He focussed inwards and, gathering all of his power, sent his thoughts into the void.

* * *

I couldn't rid myself of the dark premonition that pervaded my every moment. I debated mentioning it to Captain T'Zen or even the chief medical officer, T'Renna. Although I now had an easier relationship with the healer she was a very formidable person who all too often made me feel like a child. Were my fears caused by concern over Spock being on that planet? Or was my intuition telling me that something was wrong. He's perfectly capable of looking after himself, I chided myself but the feeling still persisted.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the filaments of the bond we shared. At times I wondered why I was so happy to be psionically attached to another, for many would feel it was a loss of one's privacy. The link was there, unobtrusive but complete, stretching between us in its mysterious but comforting, fashion. It made me feel more at ease and I had this strange compulsion to try and reach Spock. I didn't know if it was possible over such a distance but I tried anyway.
The mind exercises were tough. More exhausting than any physical ones but I persevered, despite the difficulty, until there was a strange inner jolt and the next thing I knew we connected. His presence was unmistakable and I almost jumped for joy.

Spock, it is you.

Indeed, Jim. I wished to dispel your concern. We are in no danger. All is quiet here.

This is great. We're parted but not really parted, if you see what I mean.

Jim! Spock's mind-voice was shocked. Do not utter those words. They are inappropriate.

What did I say wrong?

I will not speak of it at present. I cannot maintain this any longer. Farewell, until tomorrow.

Goodbye, Spock. I look forward to seeing you.

Suddenly alone again in my mind, I gasped and opened my eyes. "I'm always upsetting him." I berated myself. "What's wrong with being parted and not parted. In a sense it's true isn't it?" When I realised that I was talking to an empty room, I laughed. Now after our short discussion I was a little happier. I could scarcely believe though that we had been able to talk to one another between planet and ship.

Next morning I reported to the bridge for duty. The day passed slowly as all we had to do was maintain orbit, scan for signs of the aliens, run systems checks and wait. Spock reported in and his news was alarming. There had been a burst of energy from the obelisk that had rendered the tricorders useless.

"Request that the landing party be recalled," I suggested. Something was very wrong. I could feel it in my bones. There was real danger and it was close.

T'Zen looked at me. "Request noted and denied." She gave further orders to the landing party. "Mr Spock, you will stay and observe the phenomenon. Report every hour."

I was determined to voice my fears now, regardless of what anyone would think. "Captain, I feel something ominous here. I've had this premonition, a hunch, something that has told me from the start that the landing party is in danger. We must bring them aboard at once."

T'Zen's stare was unrelenting. Understanding as she was, the captain was too much Vulcan to believe in a hunch. There was no proof therefore she couldn't accept it. "Logic dictates that the monument should be kept under observation. The reason for the power surge must be determined."

"And if it is caused by the aliens' return, Captain? What then? We still can't monitor from orbit so how do we know what the obelisk's defence system might do? It could be directed at us now. We don't know how powerful it is. We could be deemed a threat. The people on the ground can't check it either if their tricorders are out."

"Technology is not the only way, Commander. The Vulcan visual range can also determine certain energy sources. The landing party will stay for a time. That is my final decision."

There was no further argument to make so I concentrated on my work and tried to sublimate my growing apprehension. Near the end of my shift, the science officer announced, "Captain, long range subspace scanners indicate ships approaching this star system."

"Hail them, Lieutenant," T'Zen said to the communications officer.

"No response," she replied. "I am signalling on all frequencies."

"Alert status one," T'Zen said. Her gaze met mine and she now acknowledged my earlier warning. "Human hunches require investigation. Perhaps they are a form of psionics."

Too late for 'I told you so's,' I prepared my station. If it was the Irzae then we could be in for a major battle. Behind me I heard the captain order the landing party recalled. I breathed a sigh of relief. She was taking no chances now on any of her crew being stranded.

A sudden stab of excruciating pain in my chest paralysed me. I slumped over my console helpless under an assault, which twisted inside me and tore me apart. "Spock," I gasped, knowing that it was his injury I was feeling. There was a sharp blow to my skull then another. I cried out and clutched my head between my hands. A moment later the pain disappeared, leaving a faint residual ache, and so did the subliminal awareness of Spock's presence that I now realised was always in my mind. "NO," I almost screamed as my whole being scattered into a million pieces.

I felt a touch on my face. A powerful mind enclosing mine. T'Zen. Somehow she gathered me up until I became whole again. She was the most powerful telepath on the ship and understood what I suffered. My shock began to ease and I was able to function again as I discovered that the bond, although muted, still existed. I began to breathe normally again. "Captain," I began.

"Tend to your work, Mr Kirk." She returned to her chair and contacted the transporter room.

Lt T'Ria's voice came through loud and clear, her words dropping like stones into my heart. "We are but three, Captain. Roman soldiers attacked us. Commander Spock was injured and captured." My worst fears had just been realised.

"Report to the bridge immediately," T'Zen said. "Science officer, scan for Vulcan life signs."

There was an unexpected surge of energy from the planet surface and the ship rocked so violently that I was almost thrown from my seat. I gripped the console and hung on tight.

"Sensor grid damaged," the junior science officer said.

"Initiate repairs at once," T'Zen commanded.

Damn, I snarled to myself. We're going to lose him.

The doors opened and T'Ria, T'Qal and Sudur were thrown in. They regained their balance, holding onto the captain's chair and once the ship had stabilised, T'Ria made her report. "We were monitoring the structure when it emitted a high-pitched whine which affected our aural responses. Thus we were taken by surprise when a group of ten Romans attacked us. Not wishing to harm them, Mr Spock ordered us to retreat and return to the ship. We did not notice another soldier who came from behind. He stabbed Mr Spock through the back with a sword. Seeing Spock still lived the Roman then struck him on the head with the hilt."

I fought to remain calm as she continued, "Spock fell to the ground, his head impacting with the stump of a tree. Before we could dispose of the soldiers, a large group of other humans emerged from the forest and engaged the Romans in battle. One stood over Spock as if to protect him and as we were outnumbered and could not rescue him without using phasers and violating the non-interference directive, I made the decision to follow previous orders and attempt a return to the ship. In the confusion before we left, it was possible to retrieve Spock's fallen tricorder. Just as we found cover we were transported up."

I swore in silence. Her actions had been logical but if I'd been there Spock would have got out.

"Incoming message," the communications officer interjected. "High Commander Joloth of the Irzae ship Zmar."

"On screen."

The Irzae were an insectoid species. Joloth's appearance was almost wasplike. Intimidating in his - it's - vicious and arrogant manner. "Why do Vulcans enter this system? We have claimed it as our own."

"This system is under the protection of the Vulcan Commonwealth. Leave at once before the defenses on the planet below are further stirred."

Joloth hissed. "They are of ancient origin. Of no threat."

"Are you not aware of the signal being sent out of our galaxy? Of the energy surges as you have drawn closer. The obelisk detected the ship, which had previously attacked it. Yours. Leave before you sustain damage."

"We are five ships now, Captain. Before we were but one. We will destroy this artifact, then claim its lovely world for our own."

"If you do not retreat I will be forced to engage you in battle," T'Zen said.

"This communication is ended," Joloth replied and the screen went blank.

"Prepare to leave orbit, Mr Kirk," T'Zen ordered.

No, that I won't do, I said to myself. I swivelled round to face her. "Captain, request permission to beam down and find Spock. He is hurt, maybe dying. He needs help."

Her fine dark eyes were not cold but sympathetic. "We must stop the Irzae. That is our first priority. We cannot take the time, at present, to rescue Spock. Our sensors are malfunctioning."

"You can't but I can go down to the planet and I must," I argued. "T'hy'la may not be kept from one another. You know this. I'm sure he is alive. I can sense his presence. I will find him. Permit me this, Captain." On seeing her hesitation I grew bolder. "I demand this. It is my right."

I waited, scarcely breathing, as she made her decision. Please, I begged. Let me go to Spock.

"Very well," she said at last. "Beam down at once. Maintain communications silence. We will return for you whenever possible."

I jumped to my feet. "Thank you, Captain." My relief must have been palpable to the whole bridge crew for some of them actually flinched.

"Mr Kirk, use a translator implant. Take an emergency kit with you. I wish you success in finding Spock."

I bowed my head to her then almost ran from the bridge. Ten minutes later I was on my own, on Llangia in the now deserted clearing, staring up at the magnificent monument left by the legendary beings known as the Preservers. My mission would be difficult but I had to find Spock as soon as possible. How that was to be accomplished I had no idea.

Llangia

With the help of three of his men, Wurguist, war leader of the Epidaii tribe, carried the Vanyar to their secret fortress beyond the edge of the forest. It was not far by the hidden ways but the stranger was injured, and his wound by necessity, had only been temporarily staunched. Blood the colour of grass seeped through the makeshift bandage they had made from material torn from Wurguist's tunic. The group of warriors also carried their booty of weapons taken from the dead bodies of their foes.

The duty guards, their eyes bulging in astonishment as they saw the angular features, pointed ears and strange dress of the one being carried, allowed the exhausted men through. Talking loudly, many excited residents of the fortress followed and crowded round the warriors as they set their burden down on a woollen blanket, close to the hearth in the communal room of the druid's house.

Wurguist waved them aside. "His wound needs tending. Find Gorvus," he told the young girl who sat by the fire. As she scurried away Wurguist knelt down. With great caution, as he recalled the stories of their mighty strength and powers of recuperation, he touched the Vanyar's forehead. "He is fevered."

An older man, with sallow skin and whose long dark hair and beard had streaks of grey in them, rushed into the room. "What is this, Wurguist? There must be a mistake he cannot be... " The druid slid to his knees, his dark robe settling about him, and studied the prone form as Wurguist explained what had happened. A trembling hand traced the outline of one pointed ear then the priest composed himself and proceeded to remove the bandage. His hand shook again as the green blood stained his skin but he dismissed his fear and awe, and busied himself with turning the stranger face down then tearing the damaged tunic off. He cleaned the gaping wound.

"Gorvus, will he live?" Wurguist asked.

"I cannot say," replied the druid. "Bruide," he gestured to the girl.

His young acolyte drew close and handed him a leatherskin pouch. He smiled and thanked her before taking out the items he required. With the expertise of many years he stitched the wound, spread his most potent unguent on it, topped that with layers of healing herbs then placed a fresh bandage round the Vanyar's body.

"He has lost much blood," Gorvus said then added in an awed tone, "green blood."

"The warrior shook his head in amazement. "He is truly not one of us. A wound through the heart would have killed an ordinary man. This one still lives, still breathes. How did he survive the attack? He is mortal is he not?"

The druid's skilled fingers trailed up the Vanyar's narrow back to his shoulder then down along his right side. His hand stopped and pressed flat against the skin. "Yes. His heart beats here below his ribs. That is why he survived. Feel."

Wurguist touched the spot. "Goddess, it is true. The Vanyar is alien to all we know."

Now that Gorvus had attended to the most dangerous injury, he examined the Vanyar more thoroughly. He discovered a swelling on the skull. "Was he hit?"

"Yes two blows to the head. One with the hilt of a Roman sword and the other when he fell."

Gorvus covered his patient with a woollen cloak. "There is nothing more I can do but keep him warm and allow him to rest. I do not know if he will live or die but I will pray for him. Leave now."

As the night drew in, Gorvus placed extra blankets on his patient's thin and trembling form. Later he checked the wound and to his amazement found that the bleeding had stopped. The druid had never seen anyone recover so fast from such a serious wound but surely this stranger was different, and might have a chance of survival.

Wurguist and his wife, Cetalia entered the house. Gorvus looked up at them. Queen Cetalia was tall and statuesque with long red hair and grey eyes. She was a warrior too and, although Wurguist was her war leader, she sometimes led the people into battle herself. Wurguist, by contrast, was smaller and slighter with fairer hair but there was no better fighter in all the tribes of Alba.

"How is he?" Cetalia asked.

"I cannot tell, my liege. At last one of the legendary Vanyar has returned. His recovery is in the hands of the gods. Surely they will not permit him to die."

"The tales do not say if the Vanyar be immortal or not," Cetalia mused. "It is obvious now that they can be injured so I assume they can be killed. We have sent out search parties for the others. Perhaps they will not wish to help us now but we must ask them. They must understand that the attack on them was not of our doing."

"There were others?" the druid asked. "You did not speak of them before."

"We but caught a glimpse of them as they melted into the forest," Wurguist replied.

Gorvus grew pensive. "How could they disappear without trace?" he asked once the other man had finished. "There must be tracks. Our scouts will follow them and they will be found."

"They have powers far beyond ours. I do not know why they would abandon one of their own. The legends laud their bravery and fighting skills." The warrior rubbed at his beard. "Perhaps they thought him dead."

Gorvus kept vigil by his patient for twenty-one hours. Although an experienced physician, the priest could not understand the Vanyar's peculiar sleep. It was not the prolonged unconsciousness, which could follow serious injury. It was something different - alien to all he knew - for there were changes occurring in the stranger's body that could not be explained. When removing the bandage he had seen the almost complete closure of the wound. He had taken out the stitches and to his amazement the skin actually knitted together. Also the swelling on the skull had diminished.

Then there was the mystery of the Vanyar's black hair, which had grown at a startling rate during this time as had his nails. Bruide trimmed those but left the hair alone as was the custom of their people. Only Romans cut their hair short. There was however no sign of beard growth and Gorvus found that peculiar.

In the early evening, Gorvus and Bruide were wakened out of a light doze by the sounds of violent movements and muttered words. The priest crawled over to his now thrashing patient and tried to hold him still. Unknown words came from the stranger's mouth then as if by miracle they became understandable.

"Strike me. Now. Strike me." The Vanyar's head tossed from side to side as if he were trying to shake himself awake.

Gorvus was shocked by this request. Surely the patient was delirious. "I cannot," he muttered. "Be still, my lord."

"Master," Bruide cried. "We must sedate him. He will injure himself."

"No. Wait," Gorvus began, the words stopped in his mouth as his left wrist was grabbed in a crushing hold.

"Strike me. Now," the stranger gasped.

Those words were a command. Although druid priests were a law unto themselves and did not take orders from anyone, Gorvus found himself using his free hand to hit the angular face with all the strength he could muster. Behind him the girl cried out in horror.

After four slaps the Vanyar's eyes flew open and his grip tightened further. Gorvus moaned, as his circulation was cut off, and he cried out, "Please, let my wrist go. I beg you."

He gasped when suddenly released and cradled the bruised wrist in his other hand. The stranger's strength was unhuman. Gorvus swallowed and looked over at the Vanyar who stared about him in a daze, before his eyes cleared and saw Gorvus.

"Where am I? Who are you?" he asked in a soft, deep baritone.

Gorvus flinched under the other's intense gaze and lowered his eyes. "You are in the fortress of Cetalia, ruler of the Epidii tribe, a queen of Alba. I am Gorvus, a physician and druid. This is Bruide my assistant." He indicated the girl, now cowering against the walls of the room.

The stranger sat up and gingerly tested his muscles. "You tended me, sir?"

"Yes, my lord, but your own powers of healing saved you not I." Gorvus dared to look up at his patient. "Do you remember what happened?"

The Vanyar hesitated before replying," I recall very little. Pain. My wound being bandaged by someone. Being carried somewhere. That is all." His gaze rested on Gorvus' face. "I am well now. Thank you for your care. May I see my location?"

His eyes were dark and compelling. Gorvus did not hesitate to obey. "Perhaps some air would be beneficial, my lord. I will help you."

The stranger shook his head and rose unassisted to his feet. He glanced down at himself, as if noticing his partial nakedness for the first time. Gorvus picked up a dark blue woollen tunic and helped him put it on. It belonged to one of the taller warriors and would serve for the moment. The Vanyar's own tunic had been too damaged to be of use and Bruide had discarded it. The patient still wore his own trews and boots, which were made of materials Gorvus had never before seen.

Although it was still light, the evening was growing chill and seeing his patient shiver, Gorvus draped a cloak and then a blanket round the narrow shoulders. "This will keep you warm, my lord."

"Thank you, Gorvus," his patient said.

Gorvus smiled. "Come, lord. I will escort you."

The tribes-folk stared as the two walked round the large heavily armed fortress. At one of the outdoor cooking fires, they stopped, and Gorvus watched, pleased, as his patient consumed a meal of porridge and fruit. Cetalia and her husband joined them and Gorvus could see their curiosity.
He introduced them and the Vanyar bowed with innate grace. "I am honoured to meet you and offer my thanks for your hospitality."

"You have been sent to us in our time of need, Lord Vanyar," Cetalia said.

"Is Vanyar my name?" The stranger's face was strained. "I cannot remember."

"You suffered blows to the head. That can affect memory," Gorvus interjected. "Do not distress yourself. I have had experience with such cases. It will return when the time is right. What do you wish to be called?"

The Vanyar shook his head. "Until I remember, you may call me what you wish." He studied those around them. "It has not escaped my notice that I am different to you. Please explain."

Wurguist smiled. "Our bardic tales speak of those such as you who came to our people in friendship and protected us from Roman attack. They called themselves Vanyar and had come to worship at the great temple. They healed the sick and injured, lifted great stones that a human could not, and possessed magic boxes which could work great miracles. After too short a stay they left for their own land and promised that should disaster overtake us they would return to help."

"Fascinating," the stranger said. "Perhaps that is my reason for being here."

"We believe so," Cetalia said. "We have been searching for your comrades but have found no trace of them."

"My comrades?" The dark eyes stared at her and she bit her lip and looked away.

"There were three others," Wurguist said. "The Romans had ambushed you. We do not know why they left."

The Vanyar looked up at the sky and something in his manner spoke of a great yearning. "They did not wish to interfere," he said, then as if startled he raised one slanted eyebrow and asked, "why do I know this?" before returning his attention to the watchers,

Gorvus studied those strange angular features and the pointed ears that peeked out from between the strands of dark hair. "Memory loss is not always total. You may remember certain details before it returns in full."

"Very well, healer," the stranger replied. "I will accept your medical judgement."

"Thank you. As to your name, we cannot presume to call you by one of our own. Perhaps Vanyar, in tribute to your people, my lord, would be suitable." Gorvus smiled a little. "Does that please you?"

The stranger nodded his head. "Indeed, sir." He silently mouthed the name then spoke it aloud. "Vanyar will suffice."

* * *

Tired after his tour of the fortress, Vanyar settled onto his pallet but sleep eluded him. He was still weak and in some pain from his injuries and there was a persistent feeling that something further could be done to alleviate his condition. He breathed deeply and his eyes closed as he tried to pinpoint the memory. It was there just at the edge of his perception, a technique that would help him. The priest had related his own observations on the healing sleep that had taken place without any help. Vanyar could only assume that his body had automatically entered the necessary state to repair the worst damage but surely there was some way for him to tap into and continue the process.

He touched his hands to his forehead and his skin tingled in a familiar way. His fingertips settled into a natural pattern and a jolt of contact followed by a stream of energy passed through him. He sighed as it spread throughout his body to ease and heal the remaining aches and pains. Once it was firmly established he took his hands away from his temple and pressed his fingertips together in a configuration he was certain held some significance. Comforted by the sensations that engulfed him he slipped into a light trance but thirty minutes later, he opened his eyes to see the young woman, Bruide, watching him.

She lowered her eyes and flushed. "Lord Vanyar, I have brought you refreshment." She held out a finely crafted gold pitcher and goblet.

Vanyar nodded and Bruide smiled, poured water into the goblet and handed it to him. It was only then that he realised he was very thirsty and drank the liquid down in one go. Bruide refilled the container and Vanyar, now his initial thirst had abated, sipped at the water.

"Are you also a physician?" Vanyar asked to break the silence.

The girl flushed, bent her head, hiding her face under her mane of long, curly red hair. She could not be more than fifteen, he realised. "Do not be afraid. I will not harm you."

"I am Lord Gorvus' disciple," she murmured. "I am bound to him until I am skilled in all the healing arts."

"I see. It is worthy profession, Bruide."

She glanced up then and a small smile creased her face. "It is, Lord Vanyar."

Vanyar noted her rapt attention and flushed features. He wondered what it meant and, embarrassed by her regard, he lay down and closed his eyes. Able to shut her out, he settled into a light doze and began to dream.

Someone walked towards me. His features were blurred and I could not recognise him. He held out his hand to me in a familiar paired fingers gesture.

I blinked in an attempt to clear my vision but it did not help.

My fingers touched his and...

Vanyar sat up and his head began to spin. He stared ahead as the dream slipped away and left only emptiness in its wake. He buried his face in his hands; mourning for something lost to him, which he could not remember. Tears fell from his eyes and with a soft cry he flung himself onto his side and curled up in anguish.

* * *

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