The Library of Learning

Spock's first impression of the small, rustic cottage which was the Library of Learning was one of carefully concealed amazement. Used to the grand buildings which housed the books and data disks of the United Federation of Planets and many alien cultures, it took a few moments before he was able to respond to his captain's comments.

"It's not exactly Memory Alpha. Not even close to the local library in Riverside."

"Indeed, Captain. It is most unusual. The reverence for records of one's culture is universal, hence the tendency to house them in aesthetically and architecturally pleasing edifices."

"What?" McCoy grumbled. "Will you speak in plain language, Spock."

"Really, Doctor McCoy, if you had learned anything other than the ability to complain, during your years of education, it would be of benefit to your patients."

The other's laughed; all except the mage who stared at the two men with interest.

McCoy stood with his mouth hanging open, a flush spreading across his face as he spluttered in indignation at the Vulcan's remark. "Why you... you... "

"Bones! Spock! " Kirk held his arms out as if to separate the two. "Calm down." He was trying to maintain his captainly cool but could not restrain a chuckle.

Spock raised an eyebrow and attempted to ignore the waves of amusement battering against his shields. With a sudden touch of daring he allowed them access and basked in the warm glow.

Ayrond stepped forward. "Do not be misled by the appearance of the library. It is protected by a powerful illusion. Only those with legitimate business here gain admittance. All others dismiss it as a simple cottage. Pray enter."

Kirk shifted his grip on the spear and gestured for his crew to accompany him as he followed the old man inside. With every sense alert for danger Spock bent his head and entered through the low doorway of the cottage. The Vulcan restrained his gasp of surprise but the humans had no such control on seeing a vast marble floored hall stretched before them.

They gazed around them with awe. The library was brightly lit by thousands of spellfire candles set into metallic sconces along the walls and exquisite crystal chandeliers suspended from the domed ceiling. On all sides there were tall shelves filled with thousands of ornately bound books.

"It's like a palace!" Uhura exclaimed, her eyes wide with amazement at the sight of the layer upon layer of balconies, connected by spiral staircases, which reached to the top of the hall.

"Ah, my lady, it once belonged to Delwen, Queen of Arbara." The mage's eyes misted. "She gifted it to the people so that all might use its knowledge. It has been home to the School of Sorcery for centuries. I myself was taught here. Alas few can reach the library now." He looked at Spock, his face only too clearly showing the depth of his exhaustion. "My prince, thou are the key. Learn all that is possible. Draw on your natural ability to work magic during the time we spend in this safe haven. The people of Arigol have desperate need of your power."

Spock glanced at Kirk, searching for help from the one person he trusted implicitly, and gratefully accepted the solid reassurance and support offered him. "I will learn all that is possible, Ayrond, however I am unsure as to what you require from me."

"All will become clear," the mage said. "Follow me."

At regular intervals along the wall were arched doorways sealed with opaque curtains of multicoloured light. Ayrond strode vigorously towards one at the far end of the room. He waved his staff and chanted a short rhyme; there was a crackle like an electrical charge then the swirling colours dissolved and a room could be glimpsed beyond the opening. The old man walked through and the others followed. Once everyone was in the small, crimson draped chamber, Ayrond turned to Spock.

"If you will, my prince. Reset the spell."

"Sir?" Spock questioned.

"Seal the doorway," the mage said.

"I do not know how," Spock protested. He was a scientist. This spellcasting was totally illogical.

"Please attempt it. You have worked magic by some means of your own. The power is within you but you must practise."

Spock looked at the others. Chekov, Sulu, Uhura and Christine were openly showing their support although noticeably uncertain of his ability to work the spell. Jim was completely convinced but McCoy - ever the sceptic - watched him with a trace of mockery on his face. That gave Spock the impetus to succeed.

He turned to the open doorway, closed his eyes and visualised the complex pattern of lights which had protected this room. He harnessed his telepathic forces and willed the magic defence system to return. He strained blindly for a moment until a sharp cracking sound and human cheers told him that he had been successful. A wave of exhaustion overcame him and he staggered. Strong hands guided him to a chair and he slumped down gratefully into the softness.

"Well done, Spock," Kirk congratulated. "Take it easy now."

Spock opened his eyes. The mage was standing near the doorway, smiling as he watched the curtain of light. It had worked then, more successfully than he had believed possible. What a fascinating universe this was where the power of the mind could achieve such feats.

The medical tricorder was whirring. "Rest, Spock," McCoy ordered. "This magic-making drains your strength."

"It does, Healer." Ayrond turned around, waved his staff and food appeared upon a small corner table. "Eat, my prince. Those who tap the core of the universe must take regular sustenance."

"Is that what he does?" Kirk asked. "Is it how you work magic, Ayrond? Can we all do it?"

The mage paced the room, his long silver hair billowing around his shoulders. "I do not know, Lord King. It is an inborn gift. Some have it to a greater degree than others. Amongst humans it needs training to bring out the full potential. Some never go beyond simple tricks such as increasing crop yields or curing boils. Only I remain as a spellbinder of any import, and I am old, tired and weak. I fear that I will not continue for much longer." He stopped in front of Kirk. "Sire, with most of the elven warriors dead our last hope of salvation lies with ye. It is my belief that only those who were born beyond the void can stand against the Evil. Perhaps your very alienness is the factor which can protect you where we of Arigol have succumbed. All of you will be able to use a particular skill here. It is written in the Book of Prophecy."

"You've seen this book?" Kirk asked.

The mage shook his head. "Ah, 'tis a legend, sire, told to me by my mother. It is said that the book lies within the library awaiting the heroes of the prophecy."

Spock sensed Kirk's pang of hopelessness. "Even if this book does exist, it'll be impossible to find amongst so many," his captain said.

"Exactly, Jim," McCoy agreed. "I was against this foolhardy quest from the beginning. I suggest we return to Ayrond's house and find some way of returning home."

"No, not yet, Bones," Kirk said. Intuition, that gift of Jim's which Spock had never been able to comprehend, was guiding this answer. It had never let his captain down yet.

***

Spock had always been a sparse eater, maintaining that he took enough to sustain him. McCoy had never been convinced and kept a regular watch on the first officer's weight, prescribing extra vitamins and minerals and nagging at him to eat more. At first the doctor, knowing little about Vulcans, had assumed that the gangly build and sometimes clumsy way Spock moved were characteristic of his alien heritage. But after having met several other Vulcan males, McCoy was not so sure and had made it his business to study all that he could on these enigmatic people.

Amanda, worried about her son's health and his future as an unbonded male, had willingly sent McCoy many volumes about Vulcan physiology, much of this information never before given to an outsider. He had studied them diligently despite knowing that Spock's hybrid nature could easily render these facts useless. However the awkwardness which often plagued human teenagers, also seemed applicable to Vulcan adolescents. McCoy studied the life cycle of the Vulcan male and discovered that until the first Pon Farr, which struck between ages forty and forty five, all were sexually immature.

McCoy had mulled over this fascinating information. It was even logical for such a long-lived species to have an extended period of youth but Spock's half-human heritage had sped the process along, bringing him into Pon Farr at the tender age of thirty four. All his life, due to the human factors in his physiology, Spock had achieved in every field at a younger age than his Vulcan peers. To McCoy's initial amusement then shock, he realised that the best first officer in the Fleet, a genius by any definition of the term was, by Vulcan standards, in late adolescence.

Spock's often contradictory behaviour and inner conflict made a certain sense now. No wonder the Vulcan had found it so difficult to interact with humans. Now after his aborted marriage it appeared that his maturity had been arrested, and he remained in some kind of limbo until Pon Farr should strike again or if his human half could retain control of the process.

The doctor worried about this very special patient. If he carped at him it was due to this, although he would rarely admit it, even to himself. He often forgot that the powerful telepathic Vulcan was very young. Sometimes he could kick himself for the way he treated him.

As Spock ravenously ate, McCoy fretted over what this magic mumbo jumbo was doing to the Vulcan's metabolism. This place with its mages and spells and nymphs was just too much for an old country doctor.

The others also noted the first officer's appetite as he worked through plates of bread and cereal and fruit. Kirk gave his head a slight shake as if to clear it then turned to McCoy for reassurance.

The doctor shrugged. "He's too thin. I'm always telling him to eat more."

Kirk grinned. "And me to eat less."

"Exactly, Jim."

Spock looked up. "I ask pardon. I have left little for you."

Kirk brushed the apology aside. "Working magic seems to be hungry work, Spock. Go ahead. I guess Ayrond can make plenty more."

The mage shrugged. "In this protected area it is simple but when we leave here we must carry supplies for I do not know when I will be able to use the spell again." He studied the Vulcan and smiled. "My prince, I am sure you will be able to summon food yourself. I believe there is little beyond your power."

Spock took a long drink of water before replying. "You do not appear hungry after spellcasting, sir. Why am I?"

"Ah, I am an old man and experienced in the ways of magic. You are but a child in the years of the elven folk. You will mature and strengthen."

McCoy glanced sharply at Ayrond. The doctor could remember little about elves except that they were meant to be long lived. The mage's comment about Spock's comparative youth supported this. McCoy dismissed such nonsense. Myths and fables were not for the scientific mind yet Spock, the most logical of all beings, was accepting the whole incongruous situation better than any of them. It ought to be laughable but it was only too real and dangerous.

The Vulcan glanced sideways at McCoy. "Very well, my appetite has been appeased."

"Good, then with your permission, we will continue." The mage aligned his staff with a golden symbol etched on the wall and muttered an incantation. The gems which decorated his wristbands began to glow a bright crimson, illuminating the wall with their brilliance.

The seven companions turned to watch the old man work his magic. The room filled with a radiant glow from the stones and the humans shivered under the intensity of the unleashed power. It swirled around them and, as if sentient, misty tendrils greedily reached for Spock. He swayed precariously. The others watched worriedly and McCoy reached out to support the Vulcan but stung by the energy he pulled back sharply and stared awestruck at his unmarked hand. He had expected to see signs of burnt flesh.

There was a sharp scraping sound and a wall panel, barely a metre high, slid open to reveal an impenetrable darkness. Ayrond sighed and lowered his hands to his side. A smile covered the mage's tired face and there was contentment in his expression. "Behold the secret way. It is said that deep underground lies the chamber we seek. Therein awaits the Book of Prophecy. I do not know how we will find it but there will be a way." He turned to Kirk. "Will you follow me, my king?"

Kirk grinned. "Well, its kinda dark in there but, why not." He trailed off as the spear, which lay loosely in his grasp, began to vibrate. He frowned down at it. "What the hell? " he muttered as his fingers, almost painfully, began to tingle.

Ayrond's eyes eagerly lit up. "Ah, it seems that I must follow you, sire. Evilsbane senses the book. Elven magic beckons her. Like will go to like."

"Are you sayin' that this spear will lead us to the book?" McCoy exclaimed. You can't rely on a piece of metal to guide us. What if it leads us to a pit?"

"Ancient Russian tales are full of swords, spears and rings which are alive, Doctor," Chekov stated, his young face alight with the fervour that was always there whenever he talked about things Russian. "For example Excalibur the most famous sword of all belonged to the great king..."

"Arthur, a legendary king of the Britons," Spock corrected.

"Britons, sir?" Chekov exclaimed. "Ivan the Terrible had a sword with that name."

Spock shook his head. "I assure you, Ensign Chekov, your facts are incorrect."

Kirk laughed and shook his head. Chekov's insistence on all great inventions and people being Russian was a game between the young man and whoever would rise to the bait. It had always helped to reduce tension amongst the crew. "All right, shall we concentrate on the situation on hand." He raised his spear carrying arm and grinned at the others' groans. "It's being drawn in there, there's no doubt about that but is it safe?"

"Evilsbane is yours, sire. She would not harm you," Ayrond reassured "She would not serve anyone under Medrikhor's rule. My beloved vouched for her integrity. Trust her."

Kirk sighed and glanced at Spock questioningly. The Vulcan nodded and, reassured, Kirk took a step forward. "Very well. Follow me." He stooped low and moved into the blackness. The spear began to glow slightly and Kirk paused, experimentally pointing it in different directions until he felt a definite tug. "This way," he said.

A hand caught at his arm. "Wait, Captain," Spock said. "Allow me to summon light."

Kirk agreed, seeing the sense in that, and soon there was a ball of fire above him. He could see three narrow passageways leading away into the darkness. "Tunnels," he said.

"Indeed, sir, and we must proceed with caution."

McCoy cleared his throat. "I hate confined spaces."

"Now is not the time to tell us you're claustrophobic, Doctor," Kirk remarked.

McCoy did not reply but his expression clearly showed his feelings. Kirk turned to his crew. "I would assume from Ayrond's words that we all will find some explanations in the Book of Prophecy, but not all of you need to go. We can bring it back here."

"I would not advise it, sire," Ayrond said. "The Book might wish to remain in its chamber."

There was no answer to that and Kirk exchanged a long look with Spock. At times like this he wondered if he were dreaming this whole episode. It was just too far fetched

It is no dream, Jim. We are truly in another universe and must abide by its laws. If we are the chosen ones then we must play our parts in what is to come. We have no choice.

I'm not sure I like that idea, Spock. There always has to be a choice.

Spock raised an eyebrow but did not reply.

"Okay. We all go," Kirk finally said. He raised the spear and it tugged him towards the right hand passageway. With the spellfire to light the way, he began to walk down the tunnel. It widened out after twenty metres but its drab grey walls remained featureless. Ahead and behind them there was only blackness and complete silence. The ground beneath them was solid but their footsteps were muffled by their soft boots and sandals.

Eventually they arrived at an intersection where three more passageways branched off. There were several soft groans and mutters. "Relax," Kirk said. "The spear knows the way." Even as he said it, he realised the absurdity of such a statement but he dismissed that feeling.

The spear led them along the left hand passage, where the ceiling was so low that even Uhura had to crouch. It was with relief that they found the next intersection and a new, larger tunnel.

Spock gripped Kirk's arm. "I hear the sound of water ahead."

"Ayrond?" Kirk questioned.

"The source of the river which runs through the woods, sire, is said to be in Elvenhome. None have ever seen its underground ways before. I cannot hear it but eldritch ears are sharper than mine."

"Spock's ears are sharper than anyone's," McCoy commented. "So are his eyes and, I suspect, all his senses."

"Surely an indication of Vulcan superiority, Doctor," Spock replied.

"Hmmmm," the Doctor grumbled.

"Let's be careful," Kirk said and continued along the tunnel.

Uhura was the first human to become aware of the sound. "I can hear it now, Captain. It sounds like a waterfall to me."

"A waterfall?" Kirk repeated.

It was not long before it was heard by all and as they made their way along the passage the roar became louder until it was almost deafening. There was a light in the distance and Spock extinguished the spellfire once it was no longer necessary.

"The waterfall lies at the end of this tunnel, Captain," Spock said. "I can see it."

Kirk clutched the spear. Was it really leading them to the Book of Prophecy or was it taking them to a watery grave? The warmth of the metal increased and Evilsbane almost leaped out of his hand, as if urging him onwards. He took a deep breath and with Spock at his side, walked on. The others followed

***

The Book of Prophecy

The corridor opened out onto a ledge which ran directly behind the waterfall. The spray constantly showered the pathway. It was impossible to hear one another speak now and not able to consult with the mage, Kirk could only surmise that underground and without any wind, unknown sorcery must be causing the phenomenon. The Vulcan swayed under the assault of the ear-splitting noise and Kirk and McCoy grasped his arms and led him along the gradually narrowing ledge until the point where it would only be possible for them to travel in single file.

Kirk was worried about the Vulcan. He could tell through the telepathic link that Spock was weakened not only due to the magic-working but also from this thunderous sound. Can you follow me? I'll be right ahead of you and McCoy will be directly behind.

Vulcan discipline won tentative control. I am functional, Captain, he managed to reply.

Kirk looked round. Everyone was damp from the persistent spray, weary and obviously concerned for the first officer. He indicated that he was going to continue along the path and that they should follow, then waited only to see that they understood before determinedly going ahead. They were a good team and could be relied upon under any circumstances.

Spock, just walk slowly and keep your hand against the wall. This infernal racket is giving me a headache. I can't even begin to understand what it's doing to you.

I am a Vulcan, Captain. I can control.

Of course, Mr Spock, Kirk soothed, but the understanding between them belied their belief in the interchange.

As they progressed the way became more slippery. Kirk let out a yelp as he lost his footing and helplessly slid toward the sheets of cascading water. An iron grip caught his arm, hauled him away from certain death and slammed him against the damp rock face. He sighed with relief. That had been a very near thing!

Jim, are you well?

Apart from being crushed and unable to breathe, Spock, he answered.

He was immediately released, and with a small grin for his rescuer he carefully walked on, feeling his way along the wall, trying not to be scared stiff by what had almost happened and could so easily befall any of them. It was with surprise that he noticed the spear was still in his possession for he did not remember being aware of its presence during his ungainly slide towards certain drowning.

The walk seemed endless and still Evilsbane drew him forward. However there was no choice but to continue along the dangerous ledge. If the others felt as wet and bedraggled as he then they would certainly make a very sorry group of heroes.

His hand touched emptiness. With a sharp cry, he lost his balance and tumbled helplessly down into the darkness. Kirk swore as he landed on a rough surface, the sharp stones digging into the vulnerable parts of his body.

Moments later Spock's worried voice resonated in his mind. Jim, do not move.

Kirk leaned up on his elbow, winced as something cold stung his skin, and quickly sat up. It was pitch black but aware of Spock's presence close by, he patiently waited for light. There was a sudden flare and spellfire swirled around his head. He looked up at his crew as they spilled into the chamber where he had so ignominiously fallen, and dared them to smile at his predicament. The roar of the waterfall was still deafening but he sensed Spock's concern and carefully hiding his bruised pride, he nonchalantly picked himself up.

McCoy gripped his arm and mouthed. Are you okay, Jim?

He nodded reassuringly and looked around at his surroundings. The mage came to his side and pointed to symbols painted in silver on the wall. The old man smiled and Kirk accepted it as encouragement that they were on the right track. He studied his crew. All had wet hair and faces but the women's clothes were dry whilst the men's were soaked through. He remembered Ayrond's remarks on elven clothing and wished that his own were equally impervious to dirt and water. He brushed himself down, lifted the soaking weight of hair from his neck and squeezed out the excess moisture. It gave him little satisfaction to note that the others were doing the same.

They had to leave this cave before they could hear one another speak and beckoning to his companions, Kirk walked ahead to an archway which led to yet another tunnel. The noise began to recede and when the passage ended in a circular chamber, just large enough for all of them to sit down, they all collapsed with relief on the hard rock floor.

McCoy checked his captain's physical condition. The tricorder hummed and with a knowing smile the doctor commented, "You got a few bruises, Jim."

"Tell me about it," Kirk complained.

"That was a lucky escape, Jim. Be glad Spock was there to pull you to safety."

Kirk grinned at his friend. "I'm glad, Bones." He turned to Spock. "Thank you."

Spock acknowledged his words with a slight bow but did not reply.

Kirk tried mind-speech. Are you all right, Spock?

I have what you might term 'a headache' but it is of no consequence, Jim. I am grateful that you are relatively uninjured.

The mage sat watching them, his old eyes sparkling with renewed vigour. He could sense their non-verbal communication and marvelled at it; truly these were heroes out of legend. He studied each member of the group and was pleased. They would all play their part in what was to come, of that he was sure, and for the first time in years there was hope for Arigol. These diverse beings would not fail him.

Evilsbane rested across the King's knees, waiting for the journey to continue. He recalled the day Maran had brought the spear home after the battle in which her sister, the Elf-Queen, had fallen. She had stayed long enough to place it in the hidden chamber, and counsel him to guard it well until the proper time. Then she had returned to take Aelwen's place as commander of the elven warriors in the fight against Evil. She had never returned from that final stand against Medrikhor.

Now Ayrond had the chance to avenge not only his beloved but all of those who had died for their land. He must help these strange lords and ladies from beyond the void to fulfil the prophecy and then he could join Maran in the moonlit lands and be at peace.

He became aware of the conversation going on around him. It was fascinating to watch the heroes interact despite his ignorance of the meanings of some of their words. The relationships between them all were most interesting, unlike any he had ever known.

"Well, I don't know what we're doin' here," the Healer grumbled. "We're wet, sore, and liable to catch our death of cold."

"Doctor McCoy, the common cold despite its irritating symptoms has never, to my knowledge, caused death," the Halfling remarked. "Vulcans, of course, are not susceptible to the ailment.

The Healer bristled but the King quickly intervened. "I think it's time to move on."

There was some laughter amongst the younger members of the group as they followed their seniors out of the chamber and into yet another long corridor. The Ebon Queen shook her head. "This is becoming so monotonous. Oh for the transporter."

The Caring One smiled. "I agree, but at least we're dry." She indicated the soaking garb of the men. "I guess elven clothes really are indestructible."

"It's not fair," The Youth complained. "I'm wet and cold. Why should I have the skimpiest clothes?" He rubbed his arms vigorously and shivered.

The Swordsman grinned. "I'm glad of my leathers, they're still reasonably dry."

"Oh stop complaining, Pavel," Lady Uhura said. "Now you know what it's like for us sometimes. Our uniforms are not exactly practical for landing parties."

"Ah but you look so beautiful, Nyota," Lord Sulu answered with a wink.

"Men!" Lady Christine remarked with a shake of her head.

***

The corridor reached a dead end. Kirk frowned. "This is the right way, I'm sure of it. See the spear is still urging me forward."

Spock touched the wall. "There must be a room beyond."

The mage nodded. "Yes, you are correct. I feel the power ahead. It calls us. Touch the spear to the wall, sire. She will show the way."

Kirk took a deep breath then held Evilsbane out. It almost leaped from his hand but he held it firmly as it began to trace patterns on the stone. A white mist emerged from the wall and swirled around them until they could barely see. As they breathed it in, coughs started to wrack their bodies. "What is this stuff, Ayrond?" Kirk gasped.

"Do not fear, sire, it will not harm ye," the mage replied. He chanted a few words and the mist dispersed.

Where the wall had been was a large chamber lined with shelves filled to overflowing with leather-bound books. Logs were burning in an ornate metal fireplace at the far end of the room and, with one accord, the seven heroes headed for its warmth. The mage followed them slowly as he absorbed the legendary chamber around him.

He allowed his companions time enough to dry out and begin to warm up before he pointed to the glass case standing on the table against the opposite wall. "There according to legend lies the Book of Prophecy. My king, I beg you to approach it."

Kirk walked across the room, followed closely by Spock and McCoy. "It's empty," he said, peering into the case.

"Appearances can be deceiving, sire. Break the glass with Evilsbane," the mage urged.

"Looks empty to me too, Jim." McCoy commented. "But don't let that stop you."

Kirk ignored him, lifted his spear and drove the hilt down against the glass. There was a loud crash, the case disappeared and where nothing had existed before there now was a large book, bound in a mottled golden hide. Two scrolls of yellowing parchment tied by black silk ribbons lay beside it.

"Well, I'll be!" McCoy exclaimed.

"Behold the Book of Prophecy," Ayrond intoned.

Everyone gathered round but Kirk hesitated, unsure of what might happen if he touched the book. He shook back his still damp hair and looked to Ayrond for assistance. The mage gestured towards the book and smiled his encouragement. Kirk touched the soft binding, and felt an unfamiliar warmth. "I've never seen leather like this before. What animal does it come from?"

"The Great Dragon, Peredwyr, who was slain by the legendary hero Vajed Halfling-Prince," the mage replied. "Peredwyr terrorised the land and none could stand against her. Vajed left Elvenhome on a quest to the undersea kingdom but his way was barred by the dragon queen whose size caused even the sun to hide in fear. Vajed was the bravest of all the elf princes and challenged Peredwyr to a duel. The dragon agreed, secure in the knowledge that not even one of the eldritch race could defeat her magic."

Ayrond's voice deepened, his gaze lingering on Spock. "Peredwyr did not know that Vajed was a halfling, the son of Avlaan Elf-Prince and Delwen Sorceress-Queen of Arbara. His power far surpassed that of either of his parents or any of their kin. There was a mighty battle and as Peredwyr lay dying, she praised Vajed and told him the secret of the prophecy, consigning to him the task of preparing the book. She gave permission for her dragonskin to be used to bind the book and exacted Vajed's promise to hide it well until the proper time. Vajed was repelled at the thought of skinning the dragon but once Peredwyr was dead, a piece of hide slipped from the tail before the dragon dissolved into nothingness."

There was silence in the room. Kirk cleared his throat, threw a warning look at McCoy in case the doctor was on the verge of one of his caustic remarks and opened the book at the first page. It was decorated with runic symbols, meaningless to his eyes but beautifully drawn and pleasant to look at. At the centre in bold calligraphic writing was the title.

Book of Prophecy

He waited until the others had read it and was about to turn the page when the leaf of parchment lifted itself and slowly slid down to rest at the other side. Spock raised an eyebrow at Kirk's questioning look but neither man commented and just curiously studied the rhyme on the next page.

"This sounds like you, Captain," Uhura said. "The destined spear has led us here. She looked up at him with sparkling eyes. "You are in command and it would be your place to destroy Medrikhor, whom I would assume is the 'Evil Liege'."

Kirk nodded. "Seems logical. If anything can be logical here." He looked at Spock for advice.

"Indeed, sir. The probability of it applying to you is approximately eighty nine point six two five percent," the Vulcan said in his best 'science officer mode'.

Kirk laughed. "That high, huh?"

"It is of course accurate," Spock added.

"Of course, Mr Spock," Kirk responded with a grin.

The book turned to the next page.

"Can't it damn well wait until we've finished reading," McCoy grumbled.

Christine smiled and took hold of her superior officer's arm. "Now, now, Dr McCoy, I think you're being irascible just for the sake of it."

The doctor flushed slightly. "I just don't like this place. It gives me the jitters."

"Bones," Kirk pleaded and McCoy shrugged then relaxed.

They all read the next rhyme.

Spock was aware of everyone's attention upon him. The somewhat cryptic verse was obviously applicable to him. The scroll was possibly one of those lying beside the book, but how could a harper be silent? And where was he to find a unicorn?

"It is an illogical rhyme, Captain," he commented but before anyone could answer, the next page was revealed

Spock waited for the inevitable outburst.

"For heaven's sake, Jim. What is this? Seek a hag in the forest for herbs. And what has a stag to do with it? Have you ever heard such bad poetry?"

The Captain shrugged helplessly. "I didn't write them, Bones."

The next page followed swiftly.

"Fascinating, Captain," Spock commented. "This could certainly apply to Lt. Uhura."

Uhura smiled. "Yes, it might mean that I sing to the animals and win them to the cause." She frowned and looked up at the Vulcan. "But I don't know how to speak to animals. Do I?"

"I believe anything is possible here, Lt Uhura," Spock replied.

Sulu had remained silent up until now but on reading the next page he exclaimed, "This has to be me."

The helmsman gave the mage a puzzled look. "But I have a sword already. Why would I want one from anyone else? And just who do I have to fight for it?"

Christine read the next rhyme, interest showing on her face.

"I'm not going near a dragon, Captain," she said. "I don't mind the animal bones, I'm a nurse and used to such things but if there's a fire-breathing dragon around..." She trailed off.

"I think we'd all agree with you, Christine," McCoy remarked.

Chekov nudged Sulu aside to get a clearer look at the book. "It has to be mine next," he said. "Everyone but me has had a rhyme."

The page conveniently changed and the young Russian read the words aloud.

He swallowed. "A drinker of blood! A wampire! Oh no, I'm not going near any wampires."

"Oh, Pavel," Uhura almost purred. "At least you'll get a cloak from him. You've done nothing but complain about your lack of clothes."

The young ensign's eyes were bright with indignation. "There are Russian legends about wampires who drink the blood of the unwary and force them to join the living dead. It is believed that my great-uncle Vladimir was killed by such a creature."

"Ensign Chekov, the vampire is a fictional creature made popular by Bram Stoker's novel, 'Dracula'," Spock corrected him.

"But, sair, my great-uncle was found with no trace of blood left in his body."

"Gentlemen," Kirk snapped. "This is all very interesting but hardly useful."

The two fell into silence. Spock watched the book turn another leaf. He almost gasped as he saw the drawing there. It might have been his twin. It could almost have been Strann. He swallowed, drew his gaze away, then faced the mage.

"How is this possible, Ayrond?" he asked.

The mage moved closer to study the drawing. "The Elf-Prince was reputed to be an artist of renown. There are portraits of him in Elvenhome which are almost identical to this."

"Just a minute here," McCoy interrupted. "Are you saying that this dragonslaying prince was the spittin' image of Spock?"

The mage clasped his hands tightly on his staff. "They could be kinsmen. It is truly remarkable."

"But Spock's not an elf. He's a Vulcan!" McCoy protested.

"Your demesne is different to mine, Healer. I saw the vessel which travels amongst the stars through the scrying stone. We have nothing comparable here. What is important that, whether he is of elven-blood or not, he has the power."

The book closed with a soft thud, startling them. Kirk was silent for a moment then said, "I think we have to remember these rhymes. I have the feeling that they're very important."

"Intuition, sir?" Spock asked. He had the greatest of respect for this talent of his captain's for it had saved their lives on more than one occasion.

Kirk's grin was lop-sided. "Illogical, Spock?"

"Possibly but indubitably real."

"Well, I can hardly believe it," McCoy exclaimed. "Our resident Vulcan is accepting something which can't be explained by logic."

"It is logical to accept that which has proven itself," Spock countered.

"But you've admitted that intuition is illogical, Spock. How can it be logical to accept it?" McCoy almost shouted.

Kirk was showing definite signs of irritability and Spock exchanged a brief glance with McCoy, both of them deciding to abandon their feuding in the light of their captain's growing annoyance with them. Spock straightened his shoulders, raised an eyebrow as was expected by his human friends, but did not reply.

The Captain opened his mouth, closed it, then began to chuckle. "You two will drive me up the wall," he exclaimed.

"I regret to say we do not have a vehicle in which to perform such a task, sir," Spock commented.

Laughter swept the others and pleased that any remaining tension had been broken, Spock addressed the mage. "Ayrond, according to the rhyme I should read the scroll. Which one should I choose?"

The old man bowed. "The choice is yours, Lord Halfling."

Spock lifted the smaller of the two scrolls, unfastened the binding and carefully spread the parchment out. Like the book it was decorated around the outer edges. In the centre, surrounded by tiny meticulously drawn unicorns was another rhyme.

The mage scratched his beard. "It is clear. You must take the scroll. It holds puissant magic which only you can call upon. You must open it and speak the words when Medrikhor is within reach of the King's spear. It is a powerful spell which will turn the forces of evil to ice for a short time". The sorcerer turned to Kirk. "It is then that you, my king, must unleash Evilsbane. You and the prince must be together at the battle."

Kirk shrugged slightly. "Spock and I usually work together."

"It does not make sense, Ayrond," Spock argued. "It has been established that I tap the magic differently to you. How can this rhyme work for me?"

Ayrond frowned. "That is one of the mysteries of the prophecy, my prince. I cannot answer your question."

Spock said the words over in his mind and a surge of energy washed through his body. He raised both eyebrows in surprise. "It is possible that the rhyme acts as a focus for my telepathy much as the ritual words we are taught to use in a meld does."

The mage smiled serenely. "You are wise beyond your years, young prince. You will know, at the proper time, what must be done. Now to the unicorns drawn on the scroll. It means that they will play a part in the downfall of Evil. The verse regarding you in the book tells of a unicorn and her foal. Perhaps you and the Lady Uhura will bring these creatures to our aid."

Christine's fascination showed in her stance and expression. The mage looked at her shrewdly and held out his hand. "Lady, do you have a question?"

The nurse flushed slightly. "Um, well, sir... I have read a great deal about mythology and legend. If the same rules apply here then a unicorn will only allow a virgin to approach: usually a young girl." She blushed deeply as all eyes turned to her but gamely continued, "I mean we are all adults and... " She swallowed and was silent.

Ayrond frowned. "The rule does apply, my lady, but it matters not if the virgin be male or female."

Spock took a firm rein on his emotions. He was but one step ahead of his crewmates; very soon they were going to come to the realisation that he was the one intended to interact with the unicorn. It was barely a second before he faced the openly curious looks aimed his way. He drew a wall around his feelings in preparation for McCoy's jibes.

To his surprise, the doctor sprang to his defence. "Christine, humans may be sexually active at a very young age but many other species are not."

The nurse's eyes widened as she looked at Spock.

Spock tensed. He was aware of Kirk's feelings and there was no teasing or ridicule from his friend, only a slight surprise. He breathed a sigh of relief at both Jim and McCoy's attitude. Both men were actively involved with women, when the restraints of starship duty did not interfere, but they easily accepted his own non-participation unlike some humans who were still intolerant of the customs and standards of other species. Yet Jim's surprise was surely due to the incident with Leila Kalomi. The spores had given contentment, their influence had not allowed other than innocent kisses and holding. There had been no desire for anything more.

The Pon Farr should have changed his status to that of a fully functional adult male. Spock considered - not for the first time - that his relative youth compared to the average male Vulcan could have played a major part in T'Pring's rejection. What female would wish to fully bond with one as young as he? A full Vulcan of thirty four standard years would be too immature. No-one had ever considered what effects his human heritage might have on his attaining maturity.

He stopped his useless thoughts. They were unimportant. "You are correct, Doctor. Vulcans place great importance in monogamy. We do not involve ourselves in casual encounters for that is against all our ethics. The marriage bond is for life."

"That's beautiful, Mr Spock," Uhura said.

"Such is the way of the elven-folk," the mage remarked. He lifted the second scroll and opened it. "This is the ancient map of Arigol which belonged to Vajed Elf-prince. It may show the secret lair of the dragon-kin. According to an ancient ballad the gem which can discover Evil in all its guises lies there." He pointed to a mountain range and his eyes lit up with joy. "See Drachenfell, the home of the dragon-queen." He looked at Christine. "You must go there with your companions but first the sword and cloak must be gained."

Kirk stepped forward. "Just a minute, Ayrond. I don't intend for any of my crew to be separated."

"Fate will have its way, sire," the mage replied.

"We'll see, Ayrond. Now do we have to go back the way we came?"

The mage considered it. "I do not know, sire. There may be other ways to the surface. First we must make further provisions for we may not find any food or water along the way." He walked to the fireplace. "Please assist me, Lord Halfling. The practise will be useful to you."

Spock readily agreed. Although it was incongruous for a species schooled in logic to work 'magic', it was fascinating to use his telepathic gifts in such a way. He could imagine the shockwaves it would cause amongst his father's family - if they ever found out.

He concentrated on trying to create food, envisaging fruits, bread, cheeses, and his captain's favourite weakness - chocolate. Sweat poured from him under the effort but as he heard the gasps of astonishment from the others, he opened his eyes to see their rucksacks filled with all manner of food. He relaxed, felt the familiar hunger pangs, and attempted to control them. He could not give in to such needs every time it was necessary to work magic.

A piece of bread was put into his hand. "Eat something," McCoy said. "I don't want any of my patients collapsing with hunger."

"Thank you, Doctor," Spock responded, before biting into the slice. It was filled with seeds and rich in taste. It reminded him of Vulcan Liwa bread. He studied it more closely. It was Liwa bread. If it was possible to create food from his own universe then he might be able to make other objects. It was a fascinating thought.

Kirk had been rummaging in one of the bags. He lifted out a flat pack and opened it, his eyes widening in astonishment as he exclaimed, "This is chocolate. Spock, you magicked up some chocolate!"

Spock almost smiled at his captain's youthful exuberance. Kirk broke the bar into pieces and passed them around. The mage curiously ate his, licking his lips when he had finished. "What is this substance, chocolate? It is delicious."

"A delicacy from our place, Ayrond," Spock replied.

"Is there any more?" the old man asked.

***

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