The Prisoner

There was a light in the darkness.

The throbbing pain began to recede and Spock tried to ascertain his whereabouts. Nothing. He searched for his companion, his mind reaching out for the familiar patterns.

Silence.

Refusing to succumb to despair, he concentrated on bringing his surroundings into focus.

He was in a dank cell. The only illumination came from a narrow window set high above him in the stone wall. He could hear the unmistakable sound of an ocean crashing against rocks and knew that the battle to transport himself and Kirk back to the wood had been lost. Instead, the dark force within that sorcerous chamber had caught him in its grasp, brought him and perhaps Jim here - wherever 'here' was. He recalled the map of Arigol which he had quickly scanned in the hidden room. The city of Arbara was on the coast, as was the Castle of Doom yet any number of fortresses could have been built by the sea and would not necessarily have been marked on the old map. He was convinced of one thing though. The Evil had found him because of Caireen's treachery.

Spock leaned back. His bare skin touched the cold walls and he shivered. Only then did he realise that he could scarcely move and he wearily noted the heavy iron cuffs on his wrists and ankles. All his senses were unnaturally sluggish, caused, no doubt, by the sorcery used in his abduction. He took a deep breath, checked his physical condition then sent healing commands to the areas which required attention. He was not seriously injured and it was a simple matter to treat such minor hurts.

Now to test the shackles which dug so harshly into his skin. He exerted vulcanoid strength to the maximum in an attempt to break them but it was impossible to make an impression. Spock did not permit himself the luxury of disappointment. There were always alternatives. He closed his eyes, remembered Ayrond's lessons and his own ability to work magic. It was worth trying, regardless of how illogical it might seem to a scientist.

He focussed his telepathy on the manacles, visualising them being opened by an invisible key, dropping onto the ground, leaving his hands free. His breath came in harsh gasps as energy poured from him until he was forced to rest. His eyes flickered open, sweat dripped from his brow and he raised his hand to wipe it away.

I raised my hand! A smile touched the edge of his lips as he saw both sets of cuffs at the far edge of the cell. The magic had worked although he would have to learn better control over it.

He grasped the wall for support, slowly stood up and groaned as sharp hunger pangs gripped him like a vice. There is no food here, he reprimanded himself. There had to be a way of repressing this need for sustenance for Ayrond had learned the way. He called on his Vulcan training once more and the craving was brought under temporary restraint.

As a gust of cold air from the high window ruffled his hair, he looked up and calculated its height. It was too high and a survey of his cell told him there was nothing to climb on. A memory of imprisonment on Ekos flicked across his mind. He almost smiled over his own inadequacy at finding a method of reaching the light bulb and Jim's practical solution to the problem. A moment later he thoroughly chastised his own narrow thinking. Of course he could reach the window! He need only draw on the magic again. He would reach his goal.

He imagined himself reaching out for the window. His body became light, he appeared to float, his hair lifting itself from the back of his neck as if he were flying. These peaceful sensations were rudely shattered as a howling wind almost knocked him over. He opened his eyes to find himself perched on the rim of the outer window ledge. He clutched at the wall. Far below him waves battered against the rocky cliff on which this castle was built. If he had fallen it would have meant certain death. He peered out over the vast ocean as storm clouds darkened the sky and an icy rain began to fall. He shivered and was about to seek shelter within his cell when a clanging sound from below alerted him to his danger. With alacrity, he climbed upwards from his vantage point, seeking precarious hand and footholds on the fortress wall until his fingers found a narrow ledge. He clung to it, his feet dangling in mid air.

Rough voices reached his ears despite the clamour of the storm. "He's gone! The halfling sorcerer's disappeared."

"Nonsense, he must be here. There's no way out."

There were curses, the crash of a door then silence. Spock grimaced as the rain soaked his leggings and hair and the wind chilled his exposed upper body. He always seemed to be wet in this place. Gritting his teeth against the cold, he made his way along the shelf until he reached another window where he gratefully crouched in the opening. Looking down into the cell, he saw a bundled form lying in a corner. Spock chewed at his lip. To remain here was too dangerous but to be outside during the increasingly foul weather was impossible. His only chance was to take shelter in the cell below. Surely his captors would not look for him there.

Calling on the magic he lowered himself to the floor. The blanketed figure stiffened. "Do not be afraid," Spock reassured. "I am not your enemy."

It grew darker inside the prison and almost automatically Spock created spellfire, a feat which elicited an exclamation of surprise from the other. Slowly the blanket was lowered to reveal golden hair streaked with grey and a pair of pointed ears. "Who are you?" the elf asked, his light green eyes staring up at Spock.

The spellfire hovered close, warming Spock's chilled body. "A prisoner like yourself. I escaped and seek shelter here from the storm."

The other's eyes deepened to jade and emotion flitted across his narrow features. "Certainly. I would welcome the company. I am alone and have seen no-one for years, not even my jailers. They put my food and water through the grating. What is your name?"

Spock restrained his impulse to look for food. "My name is Spock. Your circumstances are most unfortunate, sir. Have you attempted escape?"

The elf sat up, crossed his thin legs under him and indicated for Spock to be seated opposite. Spock bore the other's scrutiny and politely awaited his reply. "I am drained of power and will. I cannot escape this place. How were you able to leave your cell?"

As Spock explained, the other's expression turned to wonder. The elf, although emaciated and aged from privation, still had an air of authority about him. The Vulcan acknowledged its presence. "That is my tale, sir. I would be honoured to hear yours."

The elf reached out a shaking hand. "Tell me what clan you are from. I do not recognise you." His eyes widened and Spock saw realisation dawn. "But none can work magic within the Castle of Doom unless he be Medrikhor himself or... Praise to the goddess of all, thee are a halfling. Have the days of the prophecy come to pass?"

Spock bowed his head. "My companions and I were brought here by Ayrond, the Arch-Mage. However I have become separated from the others."

The elf clasped his hands together. "Tell me all, Spock, I beg thee. I am Valdrin, once elf-king of Arigol."

It came as no surprise to Spock. He briefed Valdrin on recent events and when he had finished the elf sat back, wrapped his blanket more closely around himself, and wept. Spock swallowed, unsure of what to do. "Sire," he said, "my companions and I are doing all within our power to free Arigol. You will leave this prison and return to your kingdom."

Valdrin smiled. "Emotions are not the way of our people but since my captivity I have learned to accept them within myself."

Spock could sympathise with this being, almost a kindred spirit. "I have learned from my human friend that emotions are nothing to be ashamed of. It is, however, still difficult for me to accept them. Jim has taught me to have pride in both my heritages. Although it has given me many problems, being a halfling has also granted me qualities which surpass either of my parent's species. I have committed those talents to Arigol's cause. Be assured that my companions will also play their parts in the fight."

The elf-king reached behind him, bringing out a tin plate with some bread and fruit on it and a pitcher of water. "Eat, Spock. Magic drains the body. I regret having so little to offer but what I have is yours."

Spock protested but Valdrin insisted, and too tired to magick up his own, Spock ate the meagre rations. As the storm continued to rage Spock settled down to meditate while Valdrin kept watch. The elf was easy company and Spock felt secure enough to sink into a deep level. None would think to look for him in another cell, certainly not one which had been locked for so long. They would believe him gone and once refreshed, he would attempt to teleport himself and Valdrin to the glade. He concentrated on searching for Jim knowing, instinctively now, that during that last frantic moment he had been able to send his friend safely out of Evil's way. He caught a faint, familiar mind-whisper and rejoiced. With an effort, which caused him to start out of the meditation and collapse onto the hard floor, he sent a message of reassurance to his friend.

It was many hours before the storm passed. Spock listened to the sounds of the castle. He heard the moans of other prisoners, the gruff tones of the guards, sensed the minds of many creatures whose thoughts were filled with evil. As the sun began to shine, he became aware of the pounding of horses' hoofs and the cries of soldiers. So they were sending out a search party for him. He stilled his thoughts and tried to focus on the one who commanded the forces. Perhaps he could gain some insight into Medrikhor's plans but he touched a great darkness, a pit of iniquity so vile that he recoiled as it sent out slimy feelers in his direction. He curled up into a foetal position as severe nausea and cramp almost paralysed him.

As he lay there gasping for breath, booted feet kicked the door open. He tried to gather his scattered wits in the face of this danger. Somehow Medrikhor must have discovered his whereabouts from that brief mind-touch. Fool that he was to underestimate the power of this evil creature.

"Go," cried Valdrin as he threw himself at the hulking muscle-bound guards in the doorway. Spock jumped to his feet. The elf-king was struggling with grey skull-faced creatures with yellow fangs and a single eye in the centre of their foreheads. He moved forward but Valdrin blocked his path. "Save yourself, Spock. Remember the prophecy."

Spock could not deny Valdrin's logic. He drew on his renewed energy and visualised Emrys' rustic cottage. Time slowed then stood still. The sound of the struggle receded and he found himself alone in an impenetrable grey mist. Where am I?

The fog enveloped him and he was buoyed up on its cushioned surface. He re-focused on the cottage and dropped down to land on rough ground. His location remained a mystery as liquid entered his mouth and nostrils, reacting on his body like an anaesthetic. He gasped, fighting for breath, and began to choke. No, not again, he pleaded as he felt himself slide into unconsciousness.

Jim, " he called in his final moment of awareness.

***

The Crossroad

Kirk burrowed his face in sweet smelling grass. A nudge in his side made him turn over onto his back to see a tiny equine face staring down at him with pale lilac eyes. Kirk's heart skipped a beat and he grinned with delight. "You did it, Spock," he exclaimed as he hoisted himself into a sitting position and looked for his friend.

He frowned on only seeing Ayrond, Emrys and the unicorns. A wrench of utter loneliness struck and he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that his crew were gone. With a sudden and almost vicious speed he grabbed the startled mage in a stranglehold "Where are they? What've you done with my crew, old man?"

Ayrond paled. "Forgive me, sire, but they were taken by the mists. Do not be concerned. They each must fulfil their part in the prophecy."

Kirk's fear fuelled his fury. "And what of Spock?" He released Ayrond, jumped to his feet and faced the elf. "You sent him into the pool. Did you know he'd be betrayed by Caireen?"

Emrys backed away and emphatically shook his head. Kirk took several deep breaths, trying to bring his emotions under control. Anger would not help anyone now. Drawing upon his command training he told them what had happened.

The mage bowed his head. "Truly the darkness is upon us when one of such ancient lineage would betray her own. He whom you describe is Medrikhor himself. It is likely he has imprisoned the halfling." He looked up at Kirk. "Truly the Lord Spock's power is puissant. Your presence here testifies to that."

Kirk began to pace. "Yes but is it strong enough to challenge Medrikhor on his own territory?"

"I do not know, sire, however I believe there is little that halfling magic might not achieve."

"Do you know where Spock could be?"

Ayrond moved closer and placed a hand on Kirk's arm. "The Castle of Doom lies upon the impregnable cliffs far to the north. It is many days journey away. I believe it is there that Medrikhor holds his court. Some say the elf-king is still held captive there."

"What about the rest of my crew?" Kirk asked, hopelessly wishing for a transporter to take him the distances he needed to travel.

"They must fulfil their destiny. You will be reunited with them, never fear."

Depression swept through Kirk. He slumped down by the innocuous looking pool and stared into its blue depths. The water lapped at his knee and he recoiled at its cold touch. He was alone now with no way to contact his ship for help. In this place the resources he had always relied on were inaccessible. He could only draw on his own abilities. But would they be enough?

A warm mouth nuzzled at his hair. It was the adult unicorn, her lethal horn only centimetres from his face. Absently he stroked the boney forehead. "What am I going to do?" he murmured. The foal stumbled forward on its thin legs, thrusting its face against his neck, vying for attention. Kirk sighed and stroked its soft fur.

"I believe they will lead you, sire." The mage's voice intruded.

Kirk looked over at him. "Why would they do that?" His eyes widened in surprise as he realised that the animals were actually trying to comfort him.

"The unicorn is a sensitive creature. They understand your grief and wish to assist."

Kirk looked into Chladagh's lovely eyes and saw in them a wisdom which gave him hope. "Can you guide me to Spock?" he asked. The unicorn pawed at the ground. "Does that mean yes? Damn I wish Uhura were here." He wished all of his crew were with him but it seemed that the prophecy would have its way regardless of anything he could do - or would it? Had Caireen's betrayal changed anything? Or was it meant to happen?

"And what about you, Ayrond," he asked. "Will you also accompany me to the castle?"

"If you will permit it, sire. I would deem it an honour. Pray rest now. Darkness is almost upon us. It will be safer to wait until morning."

"Mmmm," Kirk murmured not able to decide if the old man was genuine or not. Certainly Ayrond had been manipulative and underhand but was that because he feared that his 'guests' were too sceptical and not inclined to believe him?

He turned back to the unicorns, and continued to stroke them. "I guess I should be pleased that you've relaxed your stringent rules." Chladagh snorted through her wide nostrils. "Yes, I know you're helping me because of Spock. I'm grateful for that."

Kirk sat until nightfall before he would go into the house. After a sleep filled with dreams of foreboding, he rose and prepared for the journey. Ayrond waited patiently as Kirk wrote a message for the others then gathered Spock's pack and placed it along with his own. Grasping the elven spear, Kirk took his leave of the silent harper. "Promise that you'll show my companions this note." He handed the parchment to the elf who bowed and accepted it. "Thank you, Emrys. I wish you well."

The elf placed a hand on his chest. "He has pledged his word, sire," Ayrond said. "He will not fail you." Relieved a little, Kirk turned away and followed by the unicorns and mage left the enchanted grove.

They met no-one on the journey back to the crossroad. Chladagh and Deven hesitated behind the thinning trees at the edge of the wood so Kirk petted the adult's proud neck. "Stay here until we know it's safe."

The two humans walked towards the burnt out inn as twilight turned the sky into brilliant shades of lilac and red. A mild breeze ruffled their hair and its coolness was a welcome relief after the heat of the day. Ayrond stopped suddenly. His arm reached out to bar Kirk's way but before he could utter a word, hooded figures emerged from the stables. In a few moments they were surrounded by a dozen men brandishing swords and clubs.

Kirk stood still. There was no chance against so many, therefore he must rely on his wits. "Greetings," he said

A large, muscular man wearing a short brown cloak over leather breeches and jacket, lifted the hood from his head to reveal sandy hair and beard. His honest features were marred by an ugly scar across his freckled skin from forehead to jaw. "Who'd you be?" he asked in a deep voice.

"My name is James Kirk. I am searching for my companions. Perhaps you can help me find them." Kirk spoke cautiously. He had no idea who these men might be and did not want to take the chance that they were hostile.

"You're dressed like a prince," the man said, "but there be no monarchy left in Arigol. The Evil One destroyed them all."

The sorcerer stepped forward. "Indeed he did, good fellow, but I Ayrond Arch-Mage have brought heroes out of legend from beyond the void. This is the King of Prophecy. See his noble mien."

Guffaws of laughter greeted the old man's words. The red-haired spokesman lowered his sword and at a signal from him the others followed his example. One by one they removed their hoods and before him Kirk could see good men, rough in speech but untouched by evil. "We don't believe in magic mumbo jumbo and prophecies any more. Wicked creatures stalk the land, killing our young 'uns, firing our crops. The only way to survive is to hide and attack them when they don't expect it."

Kirk raised his hand. "Those are excellent tactics, sir, but picking out small groups will not rid Arigol of its oppressors."

"We have no choice, fine sir," a swarthy giant to Kirk's left stated.

"You have now," Kirk said. "Believe that I and my companions are here to help. Ayrond brought us just as he said. We travel to the Castle of Doom. Medrikhor holds my friend, Spock, there and I'm going to rescue him."

The mens' laughter was full of derision. Kirk could scarcely blame them but he would win their loyalty regardless. Of that he was sure. "Have you ever seen a unicorn?"

"Don't tell us that you just happen to 'ave one with you," the spokesman mocked.

"I do," Kirk said with a smile, "but you must promise not to frighten her and the foal."

The men murmured amongst themselves. They were obviously full of disbelief, but finally one said, "We'll be quiet."

"Good." Kirk led the way to the trees hoping that the unicorns would still be there. There was a soft whinny and he sighed with relief. "Chladagh, please honour us with your presence."

After several long silent moments, two shadowy forms emerged from within the wood. The gasps of astonishment from the group of men startled Deven but the mother rapped his hindquarters with her horn and he squealed like a child, snorted, then nuzzled against her side.

"This is Chladagh Queen of the horse-kin and her foal, Deven. She has promised her support to Spock, who is a halfling. That's why she accompanies us on this journey."

The men's eyes were wide with wonder. They glanced at one another then the sandy-haired man spoke, "We be at your service, sire." As one, all of the group dropped to their knees.

Kirk shook his head. "Stand. I am a man just like yourselves." He waited impatiently as they rose to their feet. "I want to know your names, then you can tell me what has happened to your homes and families."

"I am Pwyll," the leader said. He introduced the others then, with Kirk's encouragement, began his tale. "I was a farmer 'til the demons caught us. They beat me. They forced me to watch 'em torture my family." The big man's pain was palpable. "I don't know why I was spared. But they were called awa' and they left me to die. An old priestess o' the healing arts found me. Her village had been burned and she escaped only 'cause she'd been tending the sick in a remote farmhouse. Sera cared for me in her underground cave 'til my wounds healed, gave me food and clothing and sent me to Arbara with an introduction to the safe houses there. I met others and, under the noses of Evil's servants, we formed a small group of resistance fighters. Now we scour the country recruiting for our cause."

Kirk felt a glimmer of hope. Pwyll's small band would be perfect to form the nucleus of the army necessary to battle Medrikhor. As the sky darkened, they sheltered in the stables and talked late into the night. Kirk spoke of the rights of all peoples to freedom. He described his companions and Ayrond recounted the words of the prophecy, together convincing the men that the time of deliverance was truly here. Kirk learned more about the horrors which had overtaken these people and his admiration for their resilience grew. Tentative plans for the assault on the castle were made but in the early hours before dawn they all succumbed to exhaustion and slept.

A harsh scream and high pitched whinny woke Kirk with a start. He grasped the spear, ran outside and to his horror saw Ayrond lying stunned on the ground, blood streaming from a forehead wound. Standing over him were hulking, brutish figures with enormous stone clubs in their large hands. They turned to face Kirk, their red eyes filled with malice. Concerned for the old man's welfare, Kirk did not hesitate to challenge the fearsome giants. A cautious part of him challenged the absurdity of facing four opponents, the smallest being more than two and a half metres in height, but he refused to retreat.

"Ogres." He heard Pwyll's terrified whisper.

The ogres wore animal-skin loincloths on their hirsute bodies. They grunted and threateningly waved their clubs and bared their teeth. Kirk threw Evilsbane at the closest target. The ogre screamed,as the spear pierced its chest, and fell to the ground rolling in agony. Kirk leaped forward and pushed the spear deeper into the hulking body. As the ogre died Kirk yanked Evilsbane free, almost retching at the stench of the black blood oozing from the wound. The spear vibrated in his hand. There was no time for weakness and, encouraged by the astonishing sight of the unicorn pounding one of the ogres to the ground, he twisted around ready to fight on.

Kirk steadied himself and aimed the spear at another foe but he was grabbed from behind by two brawny arms, and lifted into the air. He struggled and aimed a vicious kick at the ogre's legs, but could made no impact on the other's thick hide. Hearing shouts he turned his head to see Pwyll and his men running towards them. He yelled encouragement and redoubled his efforts to break free but his assailant easily absorbed the blows, cuffed him across the head and with a triumphant cry ran for the trees.

Kirk's vision blurred and a falling sensation overwhelmed him. He fought to remain alert, a surge of relief washing over him as a well known mind seemed to be call him. He tried to touch its familiar patterns and they almost connected but a moment later it was gone.

Spock, he cried as he was carried into the wood.

The ogre's laughter was triumphant as it ran with unhuman speed to an unknown destination.

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