Heritage of the Sword

Hot dragon breath blasted Christine's shoulders. She gasped with the pain but clutched it like a lifeline as she struggled against the darkness.

'Place the gem on the elf's forehead, a familiar voice said. Lady, you have the power to free him.'

"Slievengyl," Christine murmured.

A radiant crimson light split the darkness. Christine forced her eyes open to see that she held the ruby in front of her, its colour slowly deepening to blood red. She glanced around and froze with horror at the sight of her friends writhing in agony on the grass. Fury stiffened her resolve and she concentrated on the stone willing the malignant creature from its host. "Come on, demon," she mocked. "Let's see just how strong you are."

There was an inhuman shriek. Christine looked at Emrys. His albino had skin turned a blotchy grey; his piercing green eyes widened with shock and his white hair snaked around his head. Christine did not allow her pity for the tormented elf to stop her and walked towards him. Emrys screamed again as she lunged forward and pressed the stone against his forehead, his eyes bulging as he was bathed in the ruby's fiery glow.

'Do not remove the gem until the demon has fled, Lady,' Slievengyl said. 'If you do, it will regain its strength and your companions will die.'

"Please," Emrys pleaded. "The pain. I beg. Release me."

Christine looked into eyes that seemed to have regained some normality. "No, demon. Leave the harper at once."

"It is gone," Emrys said, his voice eager. "See, my lady, I am recovered." The greyness was fading from his skin.

Christine hesitated. "How do I know you speak the truth?"

"Your friends. See they are still and no longer in the demon's power."

As her concentration wavered, steely fingers clasped her wrist and tried to pull her hand away. She fought him with all of her strength and would not be moved. She returned her gaze to the malevolent features of the possessed elf. "No," she said. "I won't let you kill my friends."

The ruby's colour darkened until it was almost black. Emrys clawed at Christine's arm then collapsed to his knees as the evil force left his body in a stream of smoke that slowly rose up to circle the roof of the cottage. A face and body formed, hovered for a moment then launched itself at Christine. Instinctively, she crouched and covered her head.

There was a loud bellow then a fiery hiss. The demon shrieked as it was caught in a ball of dragon-fire. It screamed again as it disintegrated. Christine's eyes stung from the sulphurous fumes but she sent her thanks to the dragon and, her nursing training taking over, knelt by the collapsed elf. She would deal with her shock later. Right now she had patients to attend.

Emrys was shivering so she fetched a blanket from the cottage and draped it over him. There was little else she could do except hope he would recover naturally so she turned to the others. They were beginning to stir and within a short time were sitting up, groggy but alive and well.

"Christine, what happened?" McCoy's voice was hoarse.

"It's all right, Doctor," she replied. "Just rest for a while."

McCoy insisted on getting to his feet. Knowing his stubbornness only too well, Christine assisted him and together they checked out the rest. Except for Emrys all were recovering and Christine could see the Doctor's concern over the elf's condition. "Should we move him?" she asked.

McCoy shook his head. "I don't know anything about elf physiology. The medi-corder's useless now and I can't tell if Emrys is in a coma or sleeping. If we move him it might be dangerous."

Christine bit her lip and stroked Emrys' hair from his brow. "All we can do then is wait."

***

Gwilym sat on the grass and watched as the Caring One told them of the demon and how it had been defeated. Truly, she was as heroic as his own Lady. His eyes would often stray to the silent dragons reclining by the pool and he marvelled at their beauty. He had heard tales of the dragon-kind and their treasure hoards but he had never before seen the fabled creatures. The elf still lay prone under the blanket.; one pointed ear all that was visible. Gwilym longed to speak with Emrys, who was perhaps one of his distant cousins, and tell him of their common ancestry. Elves were long lived and it was possible that Emrys might have news of the Royal Family of Arbara.

The others glanced over at Gwilym as Uhura and McCoy told their tale. Gwilym was aware of their scrutiny and held his head high as befitted a prince of the realm. He gave permission for his Lady to tell her friends about his captivity and he saw how the Swordsman's eyes widened as the tale unfolded. The Lord Sulu then told of the battle he had fought to win Demonstalker and, as he and his companions recounted their adventures with a vampire and the dragons, Gwilym gazed at the beauteous Uhura, her face so full of happiness at this reunion with her friends. And what friends! The Swordsman's flashing smile and good natured laugh did much to dispel Gwilym's concern over his possession of Demonstalker.

'Tis a wondrous tale, Lord Swordsman," Gwilym said. "I knowest thou hast earned the right to carry Demonstalker but I beg a boon from thee. May I touch the sword of my ancestors? I am as unworthy of the honour now as I was four centuries ago but I wouldst feel it in my hands once more."

Sulu grinned. "Why not," he said, unbuckling the scabbard and handing it over.

Gwilym returned the smile, bowed deeply then accepted Demonstalker. His heart thumped wildly as he touched the emerald on its hilt, and as he unsheathed the silver blade it caught the sun's reflection and shone with a brilliant hue. Patterns of light sparkled from tip to pommel and a tendril of heat reached out to bathe his wrist. Gwilym could almost feel the power. If only he knew how to control it.

Sulu's smile faded slightly then returned in full measure. "I guess there goes my second sword. Well, we brought plenty of others from the dragon's hoard."

Gwilym blinked. "Nay, Lord Swordsman, thou won Demonstalker fairly. I have no rights to it."

Sulu shook his head. "It's yours by birthright, Gwilym. I think it was my job to regain it for you. Y'see the rhyme makes sense now."

Gwilym did not fully understand the other's words but he did not care. Happiness swept through him. "I am indebted to thee, Swordsman." With a grin he buckled the scabbard around his waist and sheathed the sword.

Uhura clasped Sulu's arm. "That was generous of you, Hikaru."

The Swordsman grinned at her and, as they exchanged an affectionate glance, jealousy stabbed through Gwilym. The Lady had shown him her favour. Was he going to lose that now she was reunited with her comrades? With Sulu? What was between them? Were they more than friends? He could not understand the dynamics of the relationships between the five. It was beyond anything he, an only princeling, who had been surrounded by courtiers and too few family could comprehend.

There was a faint moan from the blanketed figure. The Healer and Lady Christine, seeing that Emrys was awake and full of questions, helped him inside, lowered him onto a chair and coaxed him to drink more of the healing brew. Gwilym lounged by the doorway, as they tended their patient, curiously watching the elf, happy to be away from the confusion caused by seeing Uhura with her friends. Emrys looked up and their eyes met. A chill trickled down Gwilym's back but he did not flinch, and held the other's gaze, despite memories of childhood tales warning of elven eyes being able to freeze the soul.

"Who are you?" Emrys asked in his soft musical voice.

"Gwilym, Prince of Arbara," he boldly replied.

The elf's face showed a touch of surprise. "He who vanished on a quest?"

"I am he. I was ensorcelled by the hag, Modwenna, until the Lady Uhura rescued me. Now the ancient sword of my ancestor Vajed Elf-Prince hath been returned to me, I am ready to join the battle against the King of Darkness." Gwilym strode to the chair and knelt before Emrys. "I beseech thee to assist me in attuning this blade. I didst not have the knowledge nor skill when I left Arbara to battle Medrawt Demon-Lord. I dost believe that the lack of this gift was the reason for my failure."

Emrys' green eyes focussed on Christine as he said, "I am tainted, Gwilym. I harboured a demon within me for too many years. I cannot call upon the elf blood that lies dormant in you. If the Lady of Prophecy had not drawn the evil from me, I would have destroyed you all. I am unfit to live."

Christine's eyes widened. "Nonsense. Emrys, you're making excuses."

"Damn right," McCoy angrily retorted. "Uhura and I went traipsing through that forest, down holes, across rivers and valleys, dodging soldiers and dealing with witches and the like to get these herbs to heal you. Don't you think there was a purpose in that? You must have a part to play in the future of Arigol. Medrikhor tried his best to thwart the prophecy by hiding that demon all these years. Are you going to allow him to succeed?"

Emrys flinched. He lowered his head and was silent for a few moments before raising his eyes to McCoy. "I accept thy chastisement, Healer, and beg forgiveness. I have been warped too long by my sufferings. I give thanks to you and the Lady Queen for my deliverance from pain, and swear that I will join with you all in the fight against the Evil King."

He lifted his hand and, from across the room, his harp rose in the air and flew to him. He clasped it to his chest and a smile flitted across his sombre face as his fingers touched the strings. One pure note then another broke the silence of the room. Emrys sighed contentedly and picked out a lively tune on the instrument. The music brought the others to the door of cottage where they stood listening as the master musician played. Gwilym sat back on his heels and watched in awe as the slender fingers brought forth enchanting sounds.

The music changed tempo. It became a slow rhythmic air which stirred Gwilym's blood and compelled him to unsheathe Demonstalker, raise it and kiss the glowing emerald. He closed his eyes. His heritage was ready to be claimed if he only had the courage to reach for it. His imprisonment had taught him patience and it was a simple matter to wait until the music filled his being. As the pressure built to unendurable levels, he ached for the elven power locked in the emerald's heart. A green mist covered his eyes and blinded him as the energy entered his mind, his body, and his soul. His hair stood on end as it claimed him and he wholeheartedly accepted it.

Silence. He opened his eyes to meet the elf's shining gaze. "Kinsman," he murmured.

"Welcome, cousin," Emrys said. "It is done. The elf-sword is truly yours. None but Medrikhor himself shall stand against it."

Gwilym smiled and stood up. On seeing his Lady standing by the window, an astonished look on her face, he swept her a courtly bow, knelt at her feet and offered Demonstalker, hilt first, to her. "Lady Queen, I vow mine self and all the power at my command to the Heroes of the Prophecy."

She seemed to realise the seriousness of his pledge and clasping the sword hilt between her hands said, "On behalf of our leader, I accept your vow, Gwilym."

He smiled up at her, more in love than ever, then bent to kiss her hand. He was content to serve them forever, if need be, but he hoped that one day he might be permitted to make the Lady his bride.

***

Later that evening Uhura sat by the pool and waited as Christine asked Slievengyl to send her dragons out to search for Kirk and Spock. Her thoughts turned to Gwilym and she marvelled at the way the elven power had engulfed his body in a green cloud, changing him in seconds from a naive young man to master of the sword. She liked him and was flattered by his infatuation for her, but was unsure if he realised that her life lay elsewhere. She had no wish to hurt him but could see no way to avoid it.

"Penny for them?"

Uhura jumped, laughed, then her fears just poured out. The nurse listened then commented, "I know how you feel. Emrys looks at me the way Gwilym does at you. It's been worse since I drew the demon from him. I'm almost tempted. He's a very attractive man."

Uhura smiled. "You're a sucker for pointed ears."

"Right," Christine said with a laugh. "But Emrys doesn't know how I feel about Spock. Nyota, it's hard to be a Starfleet officer. We have no life of our own."

"We had the choice, Christine. A working officer can't settle down. We all have the wanderlust. Maybe one day."

"Yes, I know." Christine sighed and looked up at the stars.

Uhura followed her friend's stare. "I'm so glad you're all here safe and sound. But how did you break through the enchantment guarding the glade?"

Christine smiled. "Dragon magic, I guess. Maybe the spell had no effect on them. Who knows, Nyota! I can't get used to this place and I don't think I ever will."

"You could have fooled me," Uhura exclaimed.

Christine grinned but didn't reply.

***

After a refreshing night's sleep, Sulu left the cottage. He breathed in the fresh morning air, stretched contentedly, then walked towards the pool. Gwilym was staring into the clear water and something in the prince's stance warned Sulu that the other was troubled. Impulsively he suggested that they practise their swordplay. The Arbaran prince readily agreed and, although rusty at first, was a stimulating opponent. Since the moment he had gained the sword's power, Gwilym had become a formidable warrior who would be deadly to his enemies.

Sulu had never been so severely tested. He was losing ground. Sweat poured from him as, with non-human swiftness, Gwilym knocked the sword aside and pressed Demonstalker to his throat. A cold expression settled over the prince's eyes. "Yield."

Sulu had been very much aware of both Gwilym's ardour-filled gazes at Uhura and resentment over his own friendship with her. Was the prince a danger to one he perceived as a rival? "Hey, I yield, Gwilym," Sulu said, trying to find a non-threatening grin. "Remember this is only a practice session."

Gwilym blinked then withdrew the sword and sheathed it "I beg forgiveness, Swordsman." He turned away, crouched down on the grassy bank and idly trailed his hand in the Pool of Knowledge.

Sulu coughed. How was he to explain the situation to the lovestruck prince? "Gwilym, I understand what you're feeling. But you have to realise that Uhura and I have been friends for years. We work together and like one another's company. I'm not your rival for her affections."

Gwilym stood up and spun around. "Thou art of her world, her life, whilst I am an outsider. She is perfection and all I didst ever dream of in a woman."

"She has many admirers but she's a career officer." He stopped and rephrased his words. "She has her own destiny to fulfil, Gwilym. You have to accept that might not necessarily include you."

The prince strode away leaving Sulu unsure of what to do about the awkward situation.

_***

During the days of waiting for the dragon scouts to return, the companions rested after their adventures then began to prepare ahead. Sulu gathered supplies and assisted the others in picking plants with known healing properties, necessary if they had to deal with lesser wounds, for the supply of herbs obtained from Modwenna could only be used for the most serious injuries. Chekov lazed in the sun when he could but was commandeered into helping with the time-consuming preparations.

One afternoon as they took a break from their work, Sulu walked over to where Chekov sat throwing stones into the water. He looked up at the cloudless sky, and was about to speak when the young Russian pointed upwards saying, "Dragons returning."

Sulu looked skyward and watched as two small bronze dragons circled several times then glided in to land close by their waiting queen. Christine and the others rushed from the cottage and Sulu and Chekov went to join them.

Christine listened intently to Slievengyl then she broke into a wide grin and turned with a cry of delight. "The dragons have seen an army riding from the south. An army of elves, unicorns, a water goddess, a mage, and led by a man whose description resembles Captain Kirk's. And they're only half a day's travel by dragonflight."

McCoy clasped his nurse's arms. "Are you sure, Christine?" The gravel voice almost broke.

She returned his hug. "Yes, Doctor."

McCoy grinned. "Well what are we waiting for? Let's pack and go."

Sulu laughed and began to turn when his arm was seized in an iron grip. "What is this, Swordsman? Where do we go?" Gwilym demanded.

Sulu looked up at the taller man. "To join our commander. He whom your people call the Noble King. You'll like him. He's a great leader, Gwilym. The best."

Uhura was suddenly beside them. "Isn't it wonderful? We'll be reunited with Captain Kirk." Her glowing smile faded slightly. "But what about Mr Spock? I hope the Captain was able to find him."

"Be not sad, my queen," Gwilym said.

Uhura smiled, took his arm and led him away. Sulu sighed. There were going to be real problems if they ever were able to leave Arigol.

***

McCoy checked that his backpack was secure as the dragon rose into the air. 'Damn creatures. This is worse than the transporter!' He kept his eyes front and focussed on the beast's crest in an attempt to control his nausea. Christine patted his shoulder and he breathed deeply to calm himself. Only after an hour of steady flight did he feel safe enough to glance down. They had left the wood behind and were now flying over a wasteland that showed signs of once being a habitable area.

"This is where the elves fought and lost their battle with Medrikhor's forces," Christine said.

McCoy glanced back at Emrys' pinched and unreadable face. Sympathy for what these people had suffered welled up in McCoy. 'Damn Medrikhor. Why does such evil exist?' He began to settle into the rhythm of the dragon's flight and was able to sip at his water bottle without any return of his sickness. Five hours later he was enjoying the exhilaration of the journey and wondering how he could ever have been nervous about it in the first place.

"Something ahead," Christine said, pointing to moving black dots in the distance.

McCoy could scarcely make them out but as they flew closer, he could see the glint of silver and gold. As the dragon's wings ate up the distance, and they descended, he could identify the mail-clad figure riding in the lead. "It's Jim!" he cried.

Christine shouted, "Go down, Slievengyl. That's our captain."

The army came to a halt and McCoy could see that they were prepared for a fight. He doesn't recognise us yet. McCoy waved his arms. "Jim, it's us. Jim."

The others took up the cry and as the dragons circled slowly then came in to land, McCoy could see the grin he knew so well on the face of his captain and friend. Hurriedly he scrambled off Slievengyl's armour-plated back. In his eagerness he tripped on the uneven ground and went flying. There was the pounding of hoofs, a storm of dust and a strong arm caught him and lifted him to his feet. Familiar laughter rang in his ears.

"Damn stupid place to land," he grumbled happily and looked up at his rescuer.

Kirk held out his arms and crushed McCoy to him in a bear hug. "I'm so glad to see you, Bones."

McCoy blinked back tears of joy. "What the blazes have you got on, Jim? Is it armour? All I got is this dress thing." He stepped back, gripped the other's shoulders and studied his face. He saw happiness but the severe strain underneath was visible to his practised medical eye.

Kirk laughed. "Stop complaining, Bones."

McCoy grimaced. "Well y'all look like some heroes out of a fantasy except me." He squeezed Kirk's mail-clad arms. "How're you, Jim?"

"I'm fine, Bones. We have a lot to talk about."

Kirk turned to his crew and greeted them warmly. Their faces were filled with delight at this reunion. McCoy knew they had sorely missed their captain but had acquitted themselves brilliantly in their quests. Kirk would be proud of them. Emrys stepped forward and bowed. Kirk returned the courtesy and listened with open pleasure as the elf spoke. Hazel eyes met McCoy's and sent an acknowledgement to him for Emrys' healing.

McCoy shook his head. "I had little to do with it, Jim. Just wait until you hear the whole story."

Kirk turned his attention to Uhura as she introduced Gwilym. The prince stalked forward, bowed in his courtly way, then stood with hand on sword hilt and stared proudly ahead. Gwilym was a head taller than Kirk but Jim's average height had never diminished him. The Captain had always projected a stature far greater than the physical actuality. None but fools ever questioned his authority and they had always regretted it. Kirk commanded by the force of his personality, in spite of his youthful looks, and now that charisma was working on all thrusters.

He held out a hand to Gwilym and smiled. "Wynonna told me about you."

The prince frowned slightly at the outstretched hand. "I have sworn allegiance. The Lady Uhura hath accepted my pledge."

McCoy groaned softly. The prince had misunderstood Kirk's friendly gesture. He took a silent bet with himself on how long it would take for Gwilym to be won over. Kirk lowered his hand. "Forgive me. I did not mean to doubt your word. I only wanted to greet you in the manner of my people, as a friend and ally."

Gwilym stepped to Uhura's side. "I honour the customs of my lady's folk, sire, however it dost not behove me to participate in them." His tone was openly insolent. He towered over Uhura's petite form but his body language showed his subservience to her will. McCoy grinned at her discomfiture and the forthcoming tongue-lashing the prince would likely receive from her over his childish behaviour. Sulu had been the recipient of that jealousy at first, and it seemed now that it was being transferred to Jim. Well after centuries of imprisonment a man might be forgiven for such conduct.

Kirk raised his eyebrow in an almost Spockian manner and ignored the remark. He marvelled at the dragons, reverently touching Slievengyl's head after receiving permission - through Christine - from the queen. "Tell her that we're grateful for her support." He looked into a large multifaceted eye. "She's beautiful."

"Slievengyl thanks you," Christine said with a smile. "She thinks you beautiful also."

Kirk laughed. "Did she understand me, Nurse Chapel?"

"Yes, Captain. Every word," Christine replied.

"I'll need to be discreet then." He grinned then turned to the waiting army and ordered his lieutenants to make camp. He called Emrys over. "You'll want to renew ties with your people."

"Indeed, sire, if you will permit. It has been many years." The harper's eyes were bright with emotion as he looked past Kirk. "My son," he whispered and walked swiftly to Iestyn.

"Gwilym, will you assist in setting up camp?" Kirk pointed to a young elf who stood nearby. "This is Evric. He'll show you what to do." It was an order not a request.

The prince curtly nodded and walked away.

"Phew! Where did you find him, Uhura?" Kirk asked. "And why's he got a chip on his shoulder?"

"It's a long story," Uhura's replied with a sigh. "Please don't be too harsh on Gwilym, sir. I know he's been ill mannered but he's suffered so much and I don't think he normally behaves like that. He has a crush on me."

"I know, Uhura. I'll tread carefully but he's placed himself under my command. I won't have him question me."

"Thank you, sir. I'll talk with him," she said.

After the camp was established, Kirk watched without concern as packs of wild animals surrounded Uhura. 'I must be getting used to this place at last,' he thought.

After a while she looked over at him and said, "Captain, they're ready to march with us."

He nodded then gulped as she waved him over. The animals made a path for him and taking his courage in both hands, he made his way through, trying not flinch as he was sniffed by wet noses and prodded by furry paws.

Uhura smiled her encouragement. "They like you."

Kirk stared at the fierce creatures who were sitting around them like large pets. "Give them my thanks, Uhura. Can you control them?"

She nodded. "Yes. They won't hurt us. They'll only target trolls, ogres, goblins and the like. The humans who fight for Medrikhor could be possessed and Christine might be able to free them."

Kirk put his arm around her shoulder. "Maybe, but we can't afford to go easy on the humans; they could as easily be there willingly." He smiled. "Well, look on this as command experience. No-one else in Starfleet will have anything like it on their record."

"That's for sure, sir," Uhura replied as she leaned down to stroke a small wolf.

***

Kirk did not care to risk only one form of protection so guards were posted around the perimeter as a back up for the magical wards set by Ayrond and the elves. As night fell Kirk sat with his crew around a brazier of coals and listened to their reports.

"We've all had unusual adventures," he said then, after a deep breath, recounted an edited version of his own experiences.

"I just wish we knew where Spock was," McCoy said.

Kirk nodded. "Ayrond has given me Spock's scroll. He believes we'll meet him again when the time is right. I sincerely hope he's right."

"Do you believe that, Captain?" Uhura asked.

Kirk stared into the coals. "Spock is essential to the prophecy. We'll meet up with him soon." He stood up abruptly. "We ought to rest now. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

"It's good to be back with you, sir," Sulu said.

"Aye, Captain, we all missed you," Chekov added.

"We'll find Mr Spock," Chapel said. "I know we will. I think the dragons saw him."

"What! Why didn't you tell me this before?" Kirk glared at the nurse. Had she deliberately withheld information?

"They say an elf was seen climbing Medrikhor's castle," Chapel explained. "The chances of it being Spock are remote but... "

Kirk paced up and down. "I believe he was taken to the Castle of Doom. If anyone was trying to escape it'd be Spock. We've broken out of so many prisons. He's an expert." A glimmer of hope had appeared and he began to relax.

"I'm sorry, sir," Chapel said. "I should have mentioned it."

He waved her apology aside. "It's all right. All of you go and rest."

McCoy remained behind. "Well, Jim, we're sure in a fine situation. Travelling across country to a castle where we're expected to destroy evil forces. This is the strangest command you'll ever have."

Kirk nodded and sat down again. "They're a fine crew, Bones, once you get used to them. It's difficult to understand all the strange powers they use." He held up the spear and a white beam shot from the tip. "That I use."

"Yeah, it's hard, Jim. There's something else, though. What's bothering you?"

"What if Spock's dead, Bones?" He looked up into sympathetic blue eyes. "He could be. What if he's in Medrikhor's hands? Maybe worse than dead."

McCoy knelt and gripped Kirk's shoulder. "Jim, you know that Spock is stronger than any of us. He'll survive."

"I know," Kirk said, and looked down as his eyes began to sting.

"Doubt and fear are natural, Jim. Don't be afraid to allow yourself to feel them. It's the human thing to do. Hell, I'm worried sick over our overgrown elf too," McCoy said gently.

Kirk smiled. Bones, despite his crusty exterior, was the most understanding of men. He felt better already. "I'm okay."

McCoy's expression was sceptical but he only said, "Get some rest, Jim."

"I will, Bones. Goodnight."

The Doctor smiled and drew him into a hug. For a few seconds, Kirk permitted himself the luxury of leaning on his friend then he drew back. "Thanks, Bones."

***

Next morning, Kirk awoke refreshed and alert, ready to command his army. Apart from Gwilym, who responded grudgingly to any order, all obeyed him unquestioningly. Kirk wondered what the man's problem was. He didn't seem like the person both Uhura and McCoy had described to him.

They saw no signs of life on their journey and by mid-afternoon had reached the Eastern Way. The small army travelled on for several hours until they arrived at a burnt out village where they camped for the night. Sera, now close to full recovery, informed Kirk that they were in the Village of the Priestess; razed by Medrikhor's forces years before. The old woman was close to tears as she recounted the events of that day and her own lucky escape. Kirk held her hand as she finished the tale and sat with her until she had recovered her composure.

As midnight approached, Kirk walked around the perimeter of the camp. A chill wind was starting to blow and he shivered. 'It's time to get some sleep,' he told himself and as he increased his pace, his mind strayed to the problems they were bound to face at the Castle of Doom. However it was impossible to anticipate everything when faced with Medrikhor's dark sorcery and that caused him a great deal of concern.

Suddenly, the ring tightened on his finger. He stopped and looked around. There was a presence nearby. Something evil. 'Nonsense, he reassured himself. 'Not here within the protection of wards and sentries.'

He moved forward but a sudden unnatural heaviness in his limbs made each step an effort. He forced himself to continue. Rain soaked his hair and ran down his face. Sheer blackness surrounded him. His heart twisted with fear. The stars had disappeared. Surely, that was impossible, unless sorcery was involved.

Harsh laughter reached his ears. It was a sound he had learned to hate. 'Medrawt.' He put fresh effort into escaping the demon's influence but it made little difference. He was trapped in some sort of dark spell and although he tried to call for help, he could only croak. He cursed his stupidity in leaving Evilsbane in his tent. Despite the proximity of his army, he was now alone and vulnerable.

'How has Medrawt penetrated our defences? he wondered.

'It doesn't matter right now', he answered himself. 'Move.'

His uncooperative body slumped onto the cold ground., and despair washed through him. The mocking laughter came nearer. Adrenaline pumped through Kirk's body, giving him a much-needed boost, and he began to crawl through the blackness. He had survived Medrawt's sorcery before and would do so again. There must be something he could do to help himself.

The ring. Of course.

He called on it and, rewarded by a slight reduction in the pressure on his body, he struggled to his feet and stumbled forward.

"You cannot escape," the voice gloated. "Once I drain your soul my power will increase a hundrethfold." Kirk looked up. It grew a little lighter and he saw the speaker, recoiling on seeing the demon's true form. Thick green scaly skin covered its body. It had a bald horned head, large pointed ears, and a twisted torso and corded legs.

"How did you get here?" Kirk whispered.

"I am no ordinary demon," Medrawt boasted. "I am second only to Medrikhor, my father." Its face was evil incarnate. A thin slash of a mouth displayed jagged teeth, two holes in the centre exuded an odorous smoke and red eyes with tiny black pupils glared unblinkingly at Kirk.

"So that's why you're still around and not rotting in hell. Did Daddy forgive you?"

The demon hopped forward on its small hoofed feet. "I hid here, deep underground where no sorcery can reach, and awaited you. Then I emerged and using the part of you that you so grudgingly gave me, I was able to project your aura around myself." Medrawt laughed. "It was enough to stop any of your little magic's from detecting me. Now after I finish swallowing your soul, I will claim the spear and kill Medrikhor. Then will I be King of Arigol."

A sudden flash illuminated the area in its bright glow. "Art thou certain, Demon-Lord?"

"Gwilym," Kirk exclaimed, never more pleased to see the man. "Be careful."

The prince, his blue eyes flashing with menace, emerged from the brightness. He removed his sword from its scabbard and raised it high. "Thou wilst not escape this time, Medrawt Demon-Lord. That I pledge." A silver glow streamed from the sword, banishing the remains of the darkness. "I was young and inexperienced when last we battled. Now Demonstalker is truly mine. My heritage is found. Prepare thyself for eternal torment, Evil's minion."

"You, princeling?" Medrawt scoffed. "I could have destroyed you centuries ago, but the lovely Modwenna had taken a liking to you. This time I will not be so merciful."

As Medrawt's attention was drawn to this new challenge, Kirk found himself free to move. He itched to join in the fray but something warned him that this was Gwilym's fight. For the moment he would stay out of it. He stepped back and watched as the battle commenced.

Man and demon circled one another. "I am more powerful than thee, puny human," Medrawt taunted then lunged for the prince with outstretched claws.

Gwilym stepped out of reach. "Beware the Sword of Prophecy, Demon-Lord. This time I wilst surely kill thee."

Medrawt laughed and a long blade materialised in its hand. "Cowardly prince. See, I do not fear you." The demon launched itself at Gwilym. The two swords clashed with a jarring din as the combatants fought but inhuman strength prevailed and slowly but surely the prince lost ground. With a triumphant cry, Medrawt casually knocked Demonstalker aside. Gwilym's face paled and with a yell he threw himself on his opponent, just as Medrawt bent to pick Demonstalker up, and viciously kneed the demon in its groin. Seizing the opportunity Kirk dived forward and grasped the elven blade. Medrawt lost grip of its own sword and scrambled away but Gwilym followed and pounded his enemy's back with great two handed blows. Suddenly Medrawt twisted around and clawed the prince's arm. Gwilym gasped in pain and staggered back.

"Gwilym," Kirk called as he threw the sword to him.

The prince's eyes widened, "My liege," he whispered as he caught Demonstalker.

Medrawt howled in fury. "No, you shall not slay me." Lightning shot from its eyes.

Gwilym swung his blade in a wide arc and slashed the demon's hide. The other's power wavered and the bolts fizzled out. Medrawt's eyes bulged in shock as its blood gushed though the wound, and screamed as Gwilym plunged Demonstalker into its scaled chest. "By the elven power within my blood and blade, I bid thee die." Pinioned by the magical blade, the demon slid to the ground, writhing in agony. Blood pumped from the fatal wound until Medrawt lay still, twitched once then moved no more. Gwilym stood over the prone form and, with a mighty heave, pulled the sword free. His breath came in harsh gasps, and sweat rolled down his face as he staggered back. His bronzed skin was ashen now as he looked down at the dead body, and Demonstalker slipped from his grasp.

Recognising signs of shock Kirk ran over to the prince. He pushed him to the ground and called instructions to the group of people who were now approaching them. McCoy knelt to examine the wounds on Gwilym's arm. "It's nasty, could be infected. Someone bring water." Sulu sped away and returned with his water bottle.

"Get rid of the body," Kirk ordered. Iestyn nodded in acknowledgement and, with help from some of his kindred, carried the demon away. Kirk did not know what they would do with it but trusted their magical ability to neutralise any remaining sorcery.

The prince leaned his head against his upraised knees and sobbed harshly. Uhura knelt by his side. "Gwilym," she murmured.

After Kirk briefly told the onlookers what had happened, Wynonna stepped forward and bathed the bloodied arm with the healing liquid. "My magic is more powerful than the poison of a demon's claw. There handsome one. All will be well."

The wound stopped bleeding and McCoy bound it. "Damn miracle water. Don't worry, Gwilym, you'll be fine."

Kirk clasped the prince's shoulder. "Gwilym, I want to thank you for saving my life."

There was a loud sniff then the prince raised his head. "I crave thy forgiveness for this unseemly display of weakness, sire."

Kirk smiled. "I don't see any weakness, just a very courageous man who destroyed an evil creature. It's never easy to kill, Gwilym, even one like Medrawt. Don't be ashamed of showing your emotions, that's something I've learned. Tears are a healthy release."

Candid blue eyes stared at him. "I am ashamed, sire. I didst resent thee without just cause. I have done thee wrong and still thou didst help me."

"We all make mistakes. I've made my own share." Kirk knew that this was his chance to win the prince over. "Will you shake my hand in friendship? We're both on the same side, Gwilym, with a mission to fulfil. I need your support. Help me to overcome Medrikhor. Once he is defeated then you'll be able to assume your rightful place. Arigol needs you."

"What of thee, sire?"

"I'm a long way from home and I want to get back." Kirk sighed and looked up at the unfamiliar stars. "I miss my ship. I feel that I've been away from her for years."

"I pledge thee my friendship and support, sire," Gwilym said.

Kirk smiled. "I'm honoured to accept both," he replied and they gripped one another's wrists in a warrior's clasp. Understanding seemed to flow between them. They were, in many ways, two of a kind. Kirk had noted that from the beginning. The prince was stubborn, often too impulsive, but still a leader. "Now you must rest. I have to check the defences."

"Permit me to accompany thee, my liege." Gwilym's voice was pleading. "I am not weary. Grant me the honour of being thy shield-bearer."

Kirk twisted the ring around his finger. The prince was not to know of Spock's place at his side. If Kirk refused the offer then the understanding they had reached might be jeopardised. "I'm honoured, Gwilym, but can only accept you on a temporary basis until the one who fulfils that office returns."

Gwilym bowed. "So be it."

Kirk breathed a sigh of relief then told the waiting group how Medrawt had infiltrated their camp. Ayrond rose to his feet, made some magic signs and sank into a tranced state while the others silently watched him. Minutes passed before the mage staggered slightly and opened his eyes.

"Ayrond, are you all right?" Kirk asked.

"Sire, I cannot sense Medrawt's underground lair but we must be vigilant. More may be hidden there. The Evil is gathering strength. It hovers in the night sky over the Plains of Mardon. We are closer to it, hence it may have the ability to penetrate our magic. All those who command the power must add to our defences."

Emrys stood. "Husband of my sister, I will call upon the harp-lore. It will warn us if Evil is close. I was remiss in not using it before."

"Captain, I can ask the animals to surround our perimeter," Uhura suggested.

"Good idea. They'll be an extra line of defence," Kirk said. "Sulu go with her." He silently berated himself. He should not have underestimated the demon's power. He felt Gwilym stir but he stared at the prince, silently ordering him to be still and was rewarded when the piercing blue eyes lowered. "Ayrond, I know little of magic-making and must leave you to co-ordinate that with the elves. I only ask that you take every precaution. If not for Gwilym, I would be dead."

"Very well, sire. We have learned from this and shall not permit Evil to infiltrate our ranks again."

Kirk smiled slightly. Ayrond was right. They would not be caught again.

***

At dawn Kirk was disturbed by animal snarls. He was halfway out of the tent when Chekov hurried into view. "Sair, there's a large group of men out there. The animals have them surrounded."

"Who are they?" Kirk gripped Evilsbane tightly and broke into a run.

Chekov quickened his pace. "I don't know, Captain."

Gwilym, with Demonstalker drawn, joined them and the three men sped to the western perimeter where Uhura, Sulu and a group of elves, their bows drawn, faced the strangers. Kirk reached Uhura's side and stared at the raggedly dressed party of nervous men. They were grimy, weary and armed only with crude weapons of stone and wood but at their centre stood a large sandy haired, bearded man with freckled skin and an ugly scar across his face.

"Call the animals off, Uhura," Kirk ordered.

"Aye, sir."

He watched as she controlled the savage beasts and once there was silence, he raised his hand. "Be welcome, Pwyll."

The big man gave a start of recognition. "Lord King!" A smile creased his grizzled features and he slid to one knee and bent his head. "Sire, we heard o' the army marching from the south and came to offer our services."

Gradually his men followed Pwyll's lead and knelt. "We march to the Castle of Doom, Pwyll," Kirk warned. "It may well be a war of sorcery. If you cannot cope with such a battle, you may leave with no reflection on your courage."

"Sire, we be yours to command. There are many more of us in hiding. They only await the word."

"You know him, Captain," Chekov stated.

"Yes, Mr Chekov. He's a good man."

Christine and the mage hurried over to Kirk. "Sir, please don't allow them near us until I've checked they're free from any evil influence," Christine said.

"The lady is wise," Ayrond said. "The gem will find Evil's presence and remove it from its host."

"Go ahead." Kirk watched as Chapel, guarded by the ever vigilant Sulu, walked towards the newcomers and held the ruby out. The puzzled men remained on their knees as she checked the colour of the stone and eventually she declared them untainted. Kirk thanked her then strode forward with Chekov and Gwilym at his back. He gestured for the men to stand and all did except Pwyll.

"Rise, man," Kirk said.

"I beg pardon, sire. I was a coward and did not help you fight the ogres."

Kirk sighed. "It's all right, Pwyll. If I hadn't been captured then I wouldn't have met my elf friends nor raised an army." He took the man's arm and urged him to his feet. "It was fated."

Pwyll bowed. "Sire, I am unworthy."

"Nonsense." Kirk glanced at his princely guard and an excellent idea formed. "Allow me to introduce to you Gwilym, son of Gwion, Prince of Arbara."

There was a loud murmur from the men. "That be impossible, sire. Gwilym is dead these four centuries." Pwyll studied the prince carefully despite his dismissive words.

"It is Gwilym. He was imprisoned under an enchantment. He is your prince." Kirk turned to Gwilym. "I charge you to take command of these men. If none of the royal house has survived then they are your subjects and your responsibility."

"Sire, I didst pledge myself to thee as shield-bearer," the prince protested.

"A shield-bearer must serve his lord, Gwilym. With these men you have an army to back you and I am truly protected."

The prince hesitated then bowed. "I obey thy command, sire."

"We will follow him, sire, if that be your will," Pwyll said.

Kirk smiled. "Good, then let's get this show on the road."

"Sire?" a chorus of voices, exclaimed.

Kirk and Chekov exchanged a conspiratorial grin. "You explain, Mr Chekov," Kirk said and left the stuttering ensign behind.

"That was cruel, Captain," Uhura said with a soft laugh.

"Part of an ensign's training, Uhura. You know that!"

***

The Plains of Mardon was the most desolate place Kirk had ever seen. Mile after mile of sparsely vegetated land stretched to the horizon. There were no signs of animal life, the sun seemed permanently hidden behind dark clouds and the wind howled continuously.

They had travelled from the village at a snail's pace. More bands of ragged men and women had joined them and the process of absorbing the newcomers into the army was a difficult one. These people were undisciplined from years of an existence filled with hardship and fear yet, on learning Gwilym's identity, they accepted the dashing figure of the prince with a certain awe. It was a factor Kirk was grateful for. It not only gave them a leader but it was also teaching Gwilym responsibility.

Kirk was concerned that they had seen no signs of the enemy. He sent out scouting parties but all returned without news. "I don't understand," he said. "Why isn't he harassing us?"

"Medrikhor awaits us, sire." Ayrond replied. "He thinks himself invulnerable and will want to prove to all of Arigol that the King of Prophecy cannot defeat him."

Kirk grimaced. "Maybe that over-confidence will be his downfall."

It was a long two-day journey before they sighted the turrets of the Castle of Doom. The ominous edifice loomed up before them like some enormous predator and there were times when it actually appeared to be alive. The sea crashing against the cliff and the raucous cries of gulls could be heard and were welcome signs of normality in an area which reeked of dark sorcery. Kirk had always loved the ocean and the sounds were comforting to him in some way that he didn't understand.

They pitched their tents on a stretch of high ground within two kilometres of the walls, and carefully set every protection available around the camp. The air was heavy with Evil's touch and their spellcasting was unable to entirely disperse it.

They held a war council to review their siege plans. Emrys' memories of the place were vivid. "There is a large outer courtyard to traverse before the castle proper can be entered but its gates are all locked from the inside and reinforced by dark sorcery. The walls are too high to scale. Even our combined magic will not be enough to topple them."

"Could you unlock a gate, Ayrond?" Kirk asked.

The mage stroked his beard. "Alas, I have not the power to open a lock guarded by Evil's spells. We must find another way."

Kirk listened to various other suggestions, then noting that the Chekov seemed eager to speak asked for his viewpoint.

"Sair, I have the cloak of invisibility. Maybe I can get inside and open a gate to let you in."

Kirk chewed at his lip. "An excellent suggestion, Chekov, but how do we get you inside without being noticed? But if we do, you'll need to use a side gate, one that's not well guarded."

"The dragons could carry Pavel inside," Christine suggested.

"They'd be seen," Kirk objected. "But you have the right idea, Nurse Chapel."

"Sir?" Chapel questioned.

Kirk turned to Uhura. "Could your flying friends search for a gate?"

She smiled. "A sea bird wouldn't be noticed. I'll talk to them."

"Good. Ayrond, you brought us through the void. Would you be able to send Chekov a short distance behind those walls?"

The mage frowned. "It may be possible if they are free from malevolent spells. If that be the case then Evil's forces must be distracted enough not to notice."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be able to manage that," Kirk said with a smile.

***

The night passed slowly for Chekov. He was to play a major part in the battle tomorrow and he lay, tossing and turning, worrying about being able to fulfil his task. Kirk had given him instructions to carry out after the gate had been opened. He was to release as many prisoners as possible using the protection of his cloak of invisibility. It was a grave responsibility. As the grey morning succeeded the night, he swiftly dressed in elven tunic and hose, slipped a chain-mail tabard over his head and fastened a sword from Slievengyl's hoard around his waist. 'Thank goodness I've seen the last of that skimpy little tunic,' he thought as he presented himself at the mage's tent.

Ayrond nodded with approval. "Soon, young man. Go and help the healer with his field hospital. You will be summoned when we are ready."

Chekov bit his lip with disappointment but obeyed the old man's request. McCoy was bustling about, grumbling about the lack of medical facilities, and the normality of that did much to calm Chekov's nerves. He heard the sounds of the army preparing to move out and, as Kirk's voice gave the order, he and McCoy along with others assigned to the hospital, left the tent and watched the scene before them. Kirk sat astride the black steed, his spear raised high in the air. Beside him, riding on a grey elven mare, Gwilym led the men of Arigol; then came the unicorns. Behind them, Uhura, Sulu, and Christine stood surrounded by their animal allies and at the rear, on higher ground, the elven archers waited. The dragons slowly circled above the army.

Chekov felt a pang of remorse at not being amongst them all but he consoled himself with the thought of the vital role he would play.

"Damn him," a disgruntled voice exclaimed. "Why does he always have to lead from the front."

"It's Captain Kirk's way, Doctor," Chekov said.

The castle's portcullis creaked opened and out poured hundreds of human soldiers. The battle began in earnest as Gwilym's men surged forward to meet them. As reinforcements of dwarves and goblins arrived to join their human counterparts, Kirk retreated behind the lines and watched for a time before ordering Uhura's animal army into the fray. Christine, shadowed by Sulu and the low flying dragons, went amongst the fallen enemy troops, freeing those possessed by Evil and awakening them from their plight. As each demon was dragged from its host, it was destroyed by dragon fire. Chekov watched in amazement and horror. This type of carnage shocked him deeply. A hand pressed his shoulder and he looked back to see the mage studying him with sympathetic eyes.

"Be strong, Youth of Prophecy. Your time will come." The old man pointed to the churning sea. "Do you hear the ocean's roar? A tidal wave approaches. Behold, the merfolk have joined the battle."

The giant wave drew closer and struck the battlements with a tremendous crash. Day darkened until it seemed like night and there was a scream that froze everyone on the battleground into immobility. A flash of fire lit up the Plains, and suddenly the sky was filled with hundreds of flying demons and harpies. Kirk signalled and waves of elven arrows were released. Surrounded now by Evil's creatures, his captain wielded the spear to deadly effect. Chekov dived forward but was restrained by the mage's strong grip.

"No. He will survive. Come, cover yourself with the cloak and follow me."

Chekov bit his lip. Every instinct told him to go and fight at his captain's side. He stared over the battleground and, to his relief, saw Gwilym cut a swathe through the demons to reach Kirk. The two men fought back to back and relieved that his commander had someone to protect him, Chekov obeyed the mage.

They went around the fighting armies. No-one accosted them and he suspected that Ayrond had set a protective spell around himself. As they reached the wet cliff top, the roar of the sea was deafening. Chekov could see a sheet of water arching from the ocean and clinging to the battlements high above him. In the depths of the wave were people with fish-tails, a large serpent, and a variety of marine creatures. The sight caused him to feel dizzy so he tore his gaze away and focussed on the mage's flowing cloak.

"Here is the doorway," Ayrond called.

Chekov ran to his side. He could only see a sheer wall hewn from the cliff face. "Where?"

The aged fingers traced a path along the stone and in its wake a faint purple line emerged. "It is hidden on the outside but I can sense it. Perhaps I can open it." He concentrated for a moment then staggered back. "No, it resists but the walls are untouched by Evil's spell. Now, Youth, gather the cloak closely. Do not allow yourself to be seen." He chanted an incomprehensible rhyme. Chekov felt a lurch in his stomach, a moment of blackness, and he tumbled, with a thud, onto the ground.

"Ouch!" he muttered, and scrambling onto his knees, he looked around to find himself beside a locked wooden door within a busy cobbled courtyard. He huddled against the wall making certain that he was fully cloaked and watched as all manner of beings were formed into platoons by demon overlords. His heart thudded wildly. Everyone was relying on him and he had to keep calm.

He studied the door. There was no way to open it without the key but where was he to find it? 'Think logically as Mr Spock has been trying to teach you. Keys would be in a guard house. Now where would that be?' He edged his way along the wall, freezing whenever anyone went by, then stumbled into a hidden alcove and fell down several steps, landing awkwardly on his still weak ankle. He bit his lip, steadied himself against the cold stone wall and glanced around.

He was in a small room, its only furniture a wooden bench, but a bunch of keys was hanging from a metal hook on the back of the open door. After making sure he was alone, Chekov grasped the keys and hid them under the cloak then crept up the steps and peered out. The way was clear and he rushed back to the courtyard door and picked one key at random. It didn't fit. He cursed in Russian. There were fifteen keys in the bunch. He tried each one and was on the verge of panic when the final one fitted the lock.

"Ho," a voice grunted. "What are the keys doing there?"

His heart almost stopped. He stood perfectly still, not daring to look around, his hand surreptitiously reaching for his sword. He could smell the rancid body odour of someone close by and leaving the keys dangling he stood back and watched as a dwarf reached over for them. Chekov lifted the sword, taking pains to keep all but his hand hidden. The dwarf became aware of his presence, took one look at the disembodied hand wielding a sword, and with a shriek, ran away.

Chekov laughed, turned the key in the lock and the door creaked open. The mage's head appeared from the side of the doorway. "Excellent, Youth. Continue with your tasks. I will inform the others."

Chekov nodded and with careful glances all around, he raced across the courtyard and into the Castle of Doom.

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