The Harper
As the day progressed, Kirk became uncomfortably aware of the toll this enforced march was taking on his people. There was little choice so he doggedly continued, encouraging them onward, only permitting occasional breaks to eat, drink and clean up a little. As night began to fall they stumbled, weary and footsore, to a halt beside an enormous tree similar to the giant sequoias which still existed on Earth.
The unicorn nuzzled at Spock's hand. A fleeting expression of surprise passed the Vulcan's features but it was the intense curiosity in his mind which bled through the link to Kirk.
Well, Spock? he asked.
"She says that the bard is within."
"Within the tree?" Kirk was puzzled. He would have to remember that the rules of this place must be accepted and adhered to, but it was difficult. The conviction from Spock that it was more difficult for one who strove to live totally by logic filtered along the link. He grinned. That was certainly true.
The mage stared hopefully at Spock. "There is illusion here. Perhaps you, my prince, can find the counterspell."
The Vulcan sighed, placed the foal onto the grass, and touched the mother unicorn's face. He closed his eyes for a moment and softly murmured, "Chladagh is queen of the horse-kin. Her magic can break the spell. She asks that you close your eyes and wait."
They all obeyed. Total silence surrounded them. A shiver ran down Kirk's spine as he felt something slide through his skin. It was not unpleasant but eerie all the same, then it was gone and all was normal again.
"You may look," Spock said.
Kirk opened his eyes and, instead of the giant tree, he could see a large glade ahead. A thatched cottage was nestled near the edge of a narrow path and a light shone through its oval windows. Unafraid, the unicorn and her foal trotted towards the house and, taking that as a good sign, Kirk and his crew followed. The unicorn whinnied a greeting and as they reached a small herb garden, close to the cottage, the door opened. A tall figure stood illuminated by the light within; a nimbus of brightness surrounded him and it was difficult to discern his features.
The mage bowed low. "Greetings, Emrys Harper-Prince, greatest of all the bards of Arigol. Behold the Heroes of the Prophecy, brought from across the void and guided to thee by the unicorn-queen and her offspring. See how they cleave to the Halfling-Prince."
All glanced at Spock and the unicorns who now nuzzled at his hands and neck. He stood tall and straight, looking completely unlike the emotionless, civilised, Vulcan science officer they all respected. Here he was something else. A hero out of legend.
As the form in the doorway signalled them to enter then stepped out of sight, Kirk tightly gripped his spear, glanced round the group then walked towards the open doorway. Moments later all were inside. The door, of its own accord, slammed shut behind them and they twisted around in alarm.
"Captain! " Chekov exclaimed, his young face showing fear.
Kirk patted the ensign's shoulder reassuringly. "Relax, Chekov."
The room they had entered was brightly lit by spellfire torches set into sockets on the walls. A log fire burned in the simple hearth and a plain wooden table and chair were the only furniture. At the other end, standing by an arched doorway was their host.
Kirk could not help but stare at Emrys the harper. The elf was tall with the elegantly pointed ears of a Vulcan but his skin and hair were white - almost albino - and shockingly green eyes stared out of his narrow, fine-boned face. He wore a threadbare black jerkin and trews and, with slender arms possessively crossed, held a delicate bone harp against his chest.
The sight of the twisted hands, hanging uselessly from beneath the dark sleeves, sent a wave of compassion through Kirk. They were horribly misshapen with a grey, dead hue to the skin. He sensed the others' shock and as McCoy stepped forward, his medical instincts taking immediate precedence, Kirk waved him back. The doctor started to protest but obviously thinking twice about defying his captain, he nodded his acceptance. Kirk, glanced uncertainly from Ayrond to Spock, then waited for the mage to speak.
"Prince Emrys, what has been done to thee? Maran did not tell me but I feared that great harm had befallen you." Ayrond whispered. "How dare anyone mutilate a harper, sacrosanct to all."
Emrys smiled bitterly. He shrugged, opened his mouth but no sound came from between his pale lips although the words seemed to form in his throat.
"I must examine this man," McCoy said impatiently. "He's been badly injured. Will he allow it, Ayrond?"
Green eyes, sparkling like emeralds from the ashen face, stared at McCoy and slowly the elf nodded. He sat down on the chair, still tightly clutching his harp, and waited trustingly as the doctor brought out his mediscanner, passed it over the thin body then handed the instrument to Christine. McCoy proceeded to use the ages-old methods of his profession - the hands-on approach which had never fully been replaced by technology - and gently examined his patient. His 'bedside manner' had rarely been more in evidence in all the time Kirk had known him. McCoy's grumpy exterior was a carefully controlled facade, perhaps equal to Spock's Vulcan front of non-emotion.
McCoy straightened and his eyes were sparking with anger. "This man's tongue has been cut out; his hands damaged beyond my skill to repair. Dammit, this is barbaric. Who could have done it?"
The mage folded his hands across his chest. "Remember the prophecy, my lord. Perhaps the healing herbs of the forest will cure Emrys."
"Don't be ridiculous, Ayrond." McCoy turned to his captain. "Jim, I can't regrow a man's tongue without access to a regen-unit. And his hands are impossible to fix even with corrective surgery."
Kirk sympathised with his friend's anger yet he knew that the eminently practical surgeon, despite his emotional behaviour, would eventually rethink his attitude and accept the differences in this place. Amazingly, the Vulcan had done so with little fuss.
"Dr McCoy, you've seen what we're up against in Arigol. Spock has been working magic. Uhura has talked with a raven. We've fought demons and met unicorns. Why shouldn't there be healing herbs which can do what seems impossible to us.?"
McCoy sighed deeply. "I know, Jim." He turned his attention to the mute harper. "Your internal organs are all in the wrong place, your blood pressure and heartbeat are completely unbelievable but why should I complain! After treating this damn Vulcan with his crazy readings, I should be prepared for anything."
The smile which crossed the other's face was less bitter. He respectfully inclined his head then looked over at the silent Vulcan, scrutinising Spock's appearance carefully.
"May we rest here, Prince Emrys?" Ayrond asked. "The success of the prophecy is in thy hands now. Will you accept the responsibility?"
Emrys nodded in agreement then glanced around the room in apology.
Ayrond smiled gently. "We gratefully accept your hospitality, but we bring provisions of our own. We have the never-ending bounty of the river which the Lady Wynonna granted us after the King and the Swordsman killed a manticore."
The harper stood up, awkwardly placed his harp down, and bowed to them all. He indicated a delicate crystal goblet on a wall shelf which then lifted into the air and moved across the room to land on the wooden table. Spock opened his water container and poured a measure into the glass where it sparkled brilliantly in the light of the spellfire like fine champagne. The filled goblet rose from the table and, without spilling a drop, crossed to the elf's lips. He sipped at the pure liquid until it was finished before returning the container to the shelf.
"Not all of your power has gone, Emrys," the mage remarked.
The elf gestured towards the fireplace, the torches, and the goblet. He shrugged and Spock understood his meaning clearly. Very little remained of Emrys' natural gifts. Spock studied the occupant of this alien place, this elf who superficially resembled Vulcans, and he found himself wishing to discuss the anatomical differences with McCoy. That would have to wait for a better time but Spock's curiosity was like a savage itch. He strove to ignore it.
Emrys watched him with open curiosity and Spock knew there was one possible way to communicate with him. If, that is, the alien mind could accept his. "Captain, I believe it is imperative to mind meld with Emrys."
He caught the flash of fear across their link. "That could be very dangerous, Spock."
"Nevertheless, there is no other way to understand him."
"If he can move a goblet surely he can manipulate a pen," Kirk insisted. "Can you write, Emrys?"
The harper shook his head.
Kirk chewed at his lip. Damn. Do you think he's telling the truth, Spock?
I believe so, Jim. According to Ayrond, the integrity of these people is unquestionable.
Reluctantly, Kirk agreed to the meld. Spock walked across the room until he was face to face with the elf. The strange green eyes were startlingly brilliant, almost mesmerising, and Spock drew on every control at his disposal; it was possible that he would need them for what he was about to try.
"Amongst my people there is a skill which we call telepathy. I can reach into your mind and we may speak to one another. With your permission I will attempt this."
A flicker of emotion passed across the sharp angled face and a smile parted the pale lips. Emrys inclined his head, closed his eyes, and could be seen physically bracing himself for the unknown sensation of talking mind to mind.
Spock flexed his fingers, interlaced then slowly parted them until only the tips of both hands were touching. He breathed deeply, called upon the disciplines required, and spoke the ritual words. Within his own mind he was faintly aware of Jim and he concentrated on protecting that link. Once satisfied for its safety, he touched the contact points and carefully sank his mind into the other's.
He shivered as the chill seeped into every cell, every crevice of his being. For one born on a desert world, who was drawn to warmth like metal to a magnet, it was difficult to restrain the urge to flee. It was like walking through snow and ice without protective clothing. I am a Vulcan, he chided himself. I am in control. The cold cannot harm me. Emrys, where are you?
There were no signs of the other's persona. Was the harper so different that any mind contact was impossible? Surely not, for Spock had successfully communicated with other completely alien minds. Granted they had belonged to his own universe but he had found no difficulty in speaking to Chladagh. He redoubled his efforts, searching for the spark of life which was Emrys and found a wall of ice in his path.
Freezing blasts drove him back. He shivered violently but a glimmer of warmth beckoned in the distance and he instinctively aimed for it, desperate to be free from cold. Its familiar pattern was a haven for his frozen mind and it was with relief that he plunged into its welcoming glow.
Spock, I told you this was dangerous, Jim said.
Jim! How did I reach you?
I guess you couldn't find Emrys and were drawn to me instead.
Spock considered that. It was logical. The severe cold of the harper's mind had driven him out and there had been but one person who could offer assistance. He opened his eyes to find Emrys staring at him, confusion apparent on those pale features.
"I cannot reach you, Emrys. The cold stopped me."
The elf turned from his study of Spock to gaze curiously at Jim. So, Emrys had been aware of him and of his captain. Curious. How had the harper hidden the emanations of his mind? Could he be a telepath? Or was it some form of magic?
Emrys awkwardly held out the harp in his broken hands. Spock gravely accepted it although unsure of the significance of the gesture. "You wish me to play it?" he asked.
The elf nodded. Spock settled the instrument into his arms and passed a finger over the strings. The notes which sounded were like birdsong. Emrys gestured encouragingly and Spock, realising that this might be a test of some kind, began to play a Vulcan melody. It was a favourite of Jim's, who never tired of hearing this tale of two pre-reform warrior brothers. He played it now though for Emrys, watching as the brittle green of the elf's eyes turned to aquamarine then a deep, soft blue. Spock completed the ballad of Sendel and Sivan and placed the harp down on the table. Emrys smiled, there was a touch of happiness in his expression and Spock knew that it would be possible to implement the mind-meld now. Some of the ice had been melted by his playing of the elven harp.
Spock placed the harp down and initiated another meld. He reeled. The contact with Emrys had only lasted for a moment but the intensity of their exchange had coursed through him like a phaser blast. Kirk and McCoy darted forward to catch him, gently lowered him into the chair and knelt on either side. The tricorder whirred, stuttered to a halt and started again.
"Blasted place is playing havoc with this damn machine," McCoy grumbled as he tried to adjust the controls.
"Bones, is he all right?" Kirk asked worriedly.
Christine moved closer, openly showing the concern for Spock that she could never hide. The others stood by anxiously while the two inhabitants of Arigol watched, interest even on the austere face of the elven harper.
The multitude of images pressed on Spock's mind causing a pounding headache. He tried to separate the individual memories for later analysis but what he managed to glean from the mass of information made him shudder in horror. It was a viciousness against a land and its people which he had never before encountered in all his years in Starfleet.
"Spock, Spock." The familiar voice repeated his name.
He knew the importance of relating the harper's experiences to the others but all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep; wake and find himself in the familiarity of his own quarters aboard the Enterprise. The insistent voice would not permit it and he reluctantly complied, willed away the headache, and forced his heavy eyelids to stay open.
"Damn Vulcan readings. I'll never get used to them." Frustrated, McCoy hit the medicorder. "It's not making any sense even for him!"
Spock rose to the bait. "It would appear that our technology is incompatible with the physical laws of this universe, Doctor. Hence I would surmise that the tricorder and phaser will shortly cease to function. You would be prudent to consider alternate methods of diagnosis and treatment. Surely to one whose complaints about 'medical technology' are well known, it will be a welcome return to the traditional methods of the physician."
McCoy was staring at him open mouthed. "Why you insolent, pointy-eared hobgoblin! How can I treat a hybrid like you with basic medical methods? I need so much information about your infernally complicated physiology. What if I can't help you when you're hurt?"
Spock raised an eyebrow and almost smiled, unable not to respond to the sincerity behind the tirade. "You will find a way, McCoy."
"Will you two quit arguing!" Kirk exclaimed. "Spock, what happened to you?"
Ayrond stepped forward. "Your pardon, Healer, why do you refer to the prince as a hobgoblin? They are amongst the worst of Medrikhor's minions, surely you do not believe!"
"It's all right, Ayrond," Uhura reassured, leading the mage away. "It's just his way of showing his affection for Spock."
Spock composed himself before answering Kirk. Emrys' alien mind had severely drained his energy. The first meld had caused a mental frostbite which only Jim's warmth had assuaged. In the second the elf's flood of horrific memories had chilled him to the very marrow. Spock licked at painfully dry lips and sensing his need, Kirk reached for his own water bottle and held it for him to drink. Gratefully, Spock sipped at the reviving liquid.
"Thank you, Captain. I am recovered," he murmured.
With a smile, Kirk replaced the stopper and put the bottle away. "Then report, Mr Spock."
"The configuration of his mind caused me certain difficulties, Captain. There were areas which I could not access. Perhaps he was afraid of revealing too much of his inner self to me, or it is possible that he has natural barriers. I believe that I can compensate in any future melds."
"I don't want you to meld with him again, Spock, unless it's essential. You almost passed out."
"I'll second that," McCoy added.
Spock sighed imperceptibly. "I do not wish to repeat the experience, sir, however if necessary, in the line of duty, it will be possible to... "
"Spock, I'll make it a medical order," McCoy warned. "No more melds with these elf-folk unless there's a very good reason."
The Vulcan glanced at the silent harper and nodded. "Very well. In Arigol all bards are honoured. They travel freely, none challenge them and even those of fiercer traditions welcome them. Emrys was the most renowned musician in Arigol, and young by elf standards, when Medrikhor began to ravage the land. After the capture of Valdrin Elf-King, Emrys elected to journey to the Castle of Doom to parley with Medrikhor. On his journey he was attacked by demons who tortured him before taking him to their king." Spock was silent for a few seconds as he fought to overcome his outrage at the harper's sufferings. "He was thrown into a dungeon and, after weeks of pain and torment, was taken to the throne room. Medrikhor listened to his music, unmoved by its beauty, then personally cut out Emrys's tongue and broke his hands. He set him loose, and told him to return to the Elf-Queen to show her the power of Medrikhor, the new monarch of all Arigol."
The humans listened, their sympathy apparent. "Why is he living here, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"He returned to Elvenhome. Aelwen could not be dissuaded from an attempt to free her husband and for the first time in many centuries the elven people prepared for war. They created this sanctuary for Emrys to keep him safe in the event the prophecy could be fulfilled. As we know the elven forces were scattered and Aelwen was lost in the great battle, her body never found. Emrys has remained here for thirty years. He begs our help. He asks that you, McCoy, find the herbs necessary to cure him, that he be able to avenge the death of his kin."
There was a long silence as all absorbed the tragic tale. "I suspect there's more that you aren't telling us," Kirk commented finally.
"Indeed, Captain. There is little point in describing his suffering in detail nor the full terror that holds Arigol under its yoke. You need only know that those who follow Medrikhor are without decency, morality or compassion. We, in our universe, have rarely come into contact with evil of this magnitude."
The Captain nodded and stood up. Spock could see that his friend's compassionate nature was fully engaged. Once Kirk was committed to a cause, he would not be dissuaded from its path and Spock's task was to see that his captain did not recklessly throw himself into harm's way. No different than his duty in their own universe.
Kirk searched for the spear which he had dropped in his urgency to stop Spock from falling. In some sub-vocal manner it was calling him, and as he held out his hand it rose up, twisted in mid-air, and landed gently onto his fingers. "This spear seems rather fond of me." He chuckled and gripped the shaft tightly. Evilsbane quivered and he realised that it wanted to be shown to the harper. Kirk was unsure how he knew this but he unhesitatingly held the weapon out towards the elf.
Emrys stepped forward, placed a twisted hand on the metal and a smile crossed his features as the spear glowed intensely for an instant before resuming its normal hue. Kirk watched carefully, and was first to see as the elf's face went blank and greyness tinged his skin. "Bones," he cried.
Christine was closest to them and as the elf fell, she caught his thin body, gently eased it to the ground, and pillowed his head on her lap.. McCoy knelt beside them, his mediscanner buzzing ominously as he attempted to take readings.
"He's very cold, Doctor," the nurse said as she stroked the soft white hair away from Emrys' brow.
"'Tis their natural way, Lady," the mage informed. "Elf hearts are as icy as their touch is a common saying in Arigol. There is some truth in that but I, who wed his sister, Maran, know that the elven heart can be roused with emotion. When that happens then no truer friend will be yours."
Kirk smiled as he met Spock's eyes. It was uncanny how much of Ayrond's description was applicable to the Vulcan. The typical raised eyebrow response caused Kirk's grin to widen and they exchanged a brief telepathic conversation.
Well, Spock, these elves could be related to the Vulcans.
Spock stood up. Really Captain, I hardly think so.
"He's coming round," Christine's voice intruded.
Kirk turned his attention to the scene. The emerald eyes gazed up at the nurse. Christine stroked the elf's hair again and Emrys blinked, parted his lips as if to speak, then slowly smiled. She returned it and said, "Just relax. You're going to be fine."
He gave a slight nod but when assisted to his feet, he did not take his attention from her. He allowed the nurse to settle him onto the chair and bring him more water, his eyes still never leaving their scrutiny of her face.
As she fussed over him, his expression grew soft and Ayrond leaned close to Kirk saying, "See the lady has won his heart. It will comfort him for he has suffered greatly."
Kirk did not know how to react to the very obvious attraction between these two. He exchanged a worried glance with McCoy, whom he knew held an almost fatherly concern for his colleague. Chapel was a compassionate woman whose skills as a nurse were second to none, but her personal life had been filled with heartache. Her adoration for Spock was common knowledge. It might be only too easy for her to be attracted to a being who was vulnerable and needed care, especially one who reminded her of the Vulcan.
"Why did he faint, Bones?" he asked.
McCoy shrugged. "I don't know, Jim. I'm a doctor not a magician."
"Ayrond, could the spear have caused him distress?"
"It is possible, my king. The eldritch-folk have senses which humans cannot comprehend. My lady did not tell me anything of the spear except that it was to await the King of Prophecy. Perhaps it belonged to Aelwen. If so he will know of it."
They settled into the warmth of the cottage and McCoy and Chapel were finally able to properly treat their comrades' injuries. Christine cleaned a wound on Sulu's hand with water from her flask. "Doctor," she called urgently. "Look, it's beginning to heal already."
"Must be something in the water," Sulu suggested.
"Magic water," Chekov said. "There are Russian legends about such water."
"Is it possible, Bones?" Kirk asked as McCoy dabbed the blood away from a gash on his arm.
"I just don't know, Jim. Maybe there's a natural antibiotic in the water. Works helluva fast though."
"I'm beginning to believe anything is possible here," Uhura said.
Ayrond smiled at her. "You are wise, my lady. The river of the goddess is enchanted. Its magic is a mystery. It is said that its power can assist the healing of minor injuries but only in those who are pure of heart."
"Is that a compliment?" Uhura asked with a smile.
The old man returned the smile. "One only has to look at you, lady, to see your kindness."
After they had rested, Kirk and Spock left the others relaxing in the cottage and went outside. The unicorn and her foal galloped towards them, neighing their greetings. They nuzzled Spock's hands, butted him with their heads and allowed him to stroke them.
"I still don't understand all this, Spock, but it's so lovely here. Too bad we're not on shore leave."
"Indeed, Jim," the Vulcan agreed. "Yet I sense that we are destined to be here, no matter how illogical that may sound."
"I feel the same, Spock, but what if we're stranded here? We might not be able to fulfil the prophecy. It's all very cryptic. How do we know we're doing the right thing?"
"I cannot say. Illogic is best left to humans."
"Right, Mr Spock. But you're not doing too badly for such a logical person," he teased. Offended eyebrows rose until almost hidden under the dark fringe. Kirk laughed softly and looked across the idyllic moonlit glade. "It's these titles I can't get used to. Kings and princes and the rest. Maybe your family are descended from Vulcan nobility, but I'm just an Iowa farm boy."
Spock cocked his head to one side and regarded Kirk warmly. "Nobility lies within the spirit, Jim. It has little to do with the circumstances of one's birth."
Kirk wondered, as he often did, what he had done to deserve this unique being's loyalty and friendship. He sighed and watched as the baby unicorn bit Spock's hand to gain his attention. The Vulcan sat down and drew the foal close. "You must learn better manners, Deven," Spock admonished. The little creature snorted pitifully and snuggled into Spock's silk tunic.
Kirk grinned widely at the sight of his Vulcan first officer stroking the foal's fluffy coat then left him to the ministrations of two very affectionate unicorns who had, without doubt, adopted him.
After a night spent sleeping on comfortable bed-rolls magicked up by Ayrond and Spock, the nine people ate a hearty breakfast then gathered outside. Emrys led them around the back of the cottage and pointed to the unicorns who grazed beside a pool which gleamed golden in the morning sunlight. None had noticed it the night before and were startled to see it. They followed Emrys and he stopped, indicated the water and looked expectantly at Spock but the Vulcan did not understand what was required of him.
"Do you wish me to reach in?" he asked.
The elf shook his head. He slipped his soft shoes off and placed one foot into the water. He nodded and pointed down.
Kirk picked up a stone and threw it into the pool. "It could be very deep. You're not that strong a swimmer, Spock. I'll go."
Emrys shook his head and gestured that it was Spock who should enter the water. The Vulcan awaited his captain's permission, noting how reluctantly it was given but as he stripped off shirt and boots, he attempted to reassure his friend. "Your lessons have been of great assistance, Captain. My underwater swimming skills are much improved."
"Yes, but what is he looking for, Ayrond?" McCoy asked. "Do you know, Ayrond?"
"This is the Pool of Knowledge. The prince will find his destiny," the old man calmly said.
"Emrys," Christine tugged at the elf's arm. "Is Mr Spock in danger? What is he here to find?"
The elf smiled and patted her hand reassuringly. The unicorns lapped from the pool and accepting that as a sign of no evil being present, Spock waded in. The bottom sloped gently down until it suddenly dropped away and there was only water beneath him. He eased into a comfortable rhythm, swimming in the clear pool, unsure exactly what he sought but assuming that it would be found. The water was pleasantly warm and he could see his shipmates on the bank, anxiously watching him. Chladagh and Deven were lying on the ground, their wise eyes upon him, and the elf stood by the mage's side. There was an unnatural stillness in the air but this world was alien to all Spock knew and could not be judged by his normal guidelines.
He swam for several minutes but seeing no further reason to continue and at his captain's urging, he headed for the bank. Swimming was a skill which Vulcans on their desert world rarely mastered but he had quickly come to enjoy its benefits during his years as a Starfleet officer. The water was growing warmer against his skin as he confidently propelled himself towards his waiting companions and he allowed himself to relax and enjoy its silky caress against his bare skin.
Without warning his ankles were caught in a vice-like grip. He drew a sharp breath and began to struggle using all of his considerable strength in an attempt to break free. However, the force which held him was irresistible. He swallowed water as he was dragged under, flailing helplessly. Jim's frantic cries reached him and Spock knew that his friend was preparing to follow him.
No, Jim, he called urgently, but he knew that the other was already in the water.
He redoubled his efforts to escape, trying to call upon the sorcerous powers he had been learning but a lethargy began to steal over him, draining his energy, dulling his mind. He fought it with his remaining strength, while reaching for Kirk's mind in a desperate attempt to protect him. His search found only emptiness and, for a moment, panic overcame him. He swept the fear away. He was Vulcan. Logic ruled his life. This was no time for negative emotions, for any emotions. The pool existed in a place protected from evil, therefore he would not come to harm. Yet logical as that was, it did not stop his worries. What if the harper could not be trusted. Or even Ayrond. What reason was there to trust anyone in this alien universe.
As all-encompassing blackness took him, Spock's last thoughts were of the man whose friendship had changed his life.
Farewell, t'hy'la.