Iaine left shortly after wards. It was not necessary for her to stick around after it became apparent that Mozenrath did indeed after druidic potential. She took a deep breath, feeling grateful that Cigfa had thought to bring some ginger root to help with her head ache. The old druidess knew more remedies and herbal fix ups than she could ever hope to. Iaine knew what would be done with the sorcerer, she of course as an apprentice would not be allowed to attend, only chief druids would initiate a new candidate. She secretly wished the desert man good luck.
The tent flap opened behind her and a hand closed on her shoulder. "Hello Essus." She said congenially.
"Why were you smiling at the man?" The druid asked, his thick blond eyebrows arching.
"Why is it your business Essus?" Iaine shrugged his hand off and began to walk away.
Essus caught up with her and pulled her around the side of a kiln, pushing her up against the baked clay. "Don't you forget who his was, is Iaine. Think of the stories of the dark necromancer in a land of death. The tales of that sorcerer even reached our island. Doesn't that tell you anything?"
Iaine glared at him and Essus broke his hold. Her anger was as stunning as her joy, and her eyes reflected them both. "I'll smile at who I like Essus. And I choose to smile at you no longer." She snapped away, her braid lashing in his face. "You may have initiated me into my apprenticeship Essus, but you do not determine how I will choose to act any more than you can say what bread I will eat or where I will sleep." And with whom. She thought privately. Essus was like a dog with a bone, unable to let go of whatever he thought his. And Iaine disliked being his bone.
She was a free woman of the Celtic people, no man dared tell her what to do save her father and Tristan. Even if Essus became chief druid of the grove, there were other groups she could join to avoid his mastery over her.
He had been this was ever since the Beltane fires five years ago. They had lain together in powerful magical rites, consummating a symbolic divine union. The act was strictly druidic, no relationship or emotions needed to become involved and she had steeled herself for that. But when Essus had lain against her, she had caved into his expertise.
It was her own fault. She knew that now. There was no denying that the man's experience was well know through out the village. And when he lay with her she had acted as a lost pup instead of a druidess. Following him around, waiting to be used again. He had been her first time, she was attached to that. Essus had ignored her for the most part, her being just at the end of puberty and honed in on more buxom and inviting women who had long since learned to express interest in a way that would attract and not appall.
She had been so angry the first time he had taken another woman after her that she promptly assaulted the first man to show interest. A trader from a neighboring village. She couldn't even remember his name. Iaine was ashamed of what she had done, acting like a bitch in heat. But she had learned a valuable lesson from the merchant. She could and did hold power in pleasure. Once she discovered this new ability within herself she broke her attention from Essus, suddenly being very picky about her lovers. Men in the village began to take interest in the sudden independent and coy lass, among them Essus. It was hard to be attracted to someone who threw themselves under your feet. But Iaine, a little older, a great deal more confidant and controlled, was indeed a beauty.
But when Essus approached her again, winding his charm about her so thickly she couldn't breath, Iaine suddenly realized how unattractive he was as a mate. Oh he was handsome enough, dark blond with serious, brooding blue eyes and straight teeth. His lips were firm and manly, his body was developed and hard. But his attitude set her off automatically. She was evasive at first, simply not caring if he was enticed or not. He became more insistent as he realized that this fine prize was slipping away. She told him straight off one night when he cornered her with a fine man who had treated her with respect.
There was no evidence to prove he had done so, but a few weeks later, when a band of strange looking 'merchants' came through to trade goods, she had awoke one morning to find herself bound by foot and wrist in the back of a cart. Kidnapped. These had to be foreign folk, no one from Erin would dare lay harmful hands on a druid! There was a life long curse of vicious satire and horrible agony laid on those who did. They must have been paid to do so, for the ware in the back of their cart were so shoddy it could not explain the wealth of gold they jingled in their pockets.
Also they lay not a hand of desire on her, mostly left her to her own designs. That made sense. Essus was known for his jealousy and would have wreaked terrible vengeance if they dared to violate her.
Essus must have been surprised when he appeared a few days later, leading a war party to 'rescue' the 'captured' kins woman. No doubt he expected her to fall gratefully into his arms and fall doe eyed in love again. Shock, he appeared at the robbers camp to find Iaine sitting calmly in the center, eating a roast pheasant with the band staring slack jawed into the fire as if the secret of life could be taken from it.
He had forgotten the power of her eyes.
Iaine stopped as she came down to the river, the cool breeze coming off the water calling to her. She needed a few minuets where no one could find her, she was the only one who could change in this village. So if she so chose, and she often did, no one but Tristan would be able to seek her out.
The river touched her feet as they crunched in the pebbles. She removed her clothing, uncaring of the world around her as it faded away. Iaine closed her eyes and remembered sensations, wind through her feathers, the crunch of bones in her claws and the taste of fresh meat in her jaw. She lifted her arms and jumped.
It was two days before anyone saw Iaine again. Essus made a big deal of her rejecting her duties when she returned but Tristan merely nodded and asked her if all had went well. Mozenrath had already undergone his initiation into the fold, an experience that left a part of him feeling…filled…in a way he was not used to yet. He was not however, to speak to anyone regarding this. The ceremonies of the druids were held deep in the forest for a good reason. There were always smaller, more simplistic rituals held for the villagers. Most of it was a great deal of show and fun, amusing from the perspective of those who knew better. But the kind of magic done in the more secretive groups were not something your day to day person could stand to be exposed to. It would be confusing and chaotic, and most likely make one think themselves mad.
But he was coming to terms with some of what he had seen, and his training had already begun. Each druid here seemed to have one specialty or another, and his day was filled up with going to each in turn. It was not as simple as sitting and listening, he was expected to be active on a constant bases. Sometimes he was only expected to stay still and concentrate, but a great many times now he had been lead into the woods to walk with Tristan.
Mozenrath had come to a halt the other day when he realized his mentor was gone from beside him. He turned frantically, not having paid any attention at all to what Tristan had been saying. They had become so entangled in the surrounding forest that Mozenrath could barely see the sun above. He had looked around stupidly for a moment before running straight into the old druid who frowned down at him.
The staff he carried landed hard against Mozenrath's backside, sending him arse over teakettle across the ground. Mozenrath spun around, eyes blazing as he raised his skeletal hand as if the fire on the man.
Tristan merely looked at him, sigh, and smacked his across the back of his knuckles. Mozenrath cursed angrily but did not act as if to attack again. Tristan shook his head, still not speaking and helped Mozenrath to his feet. "Come on now, and this time pay attention."
Mozenrath was getting very tired of being smacked about like a disobedient child. Most of his teachers were of the same mind as Tristan and had no shyness about backhanding him for being a smart ass. Even Cigfa, the old woman who didn't look like she could squeeze the water from a rag had given him a cuff when he ignored her instructions regarding the grinding of poppy seeds.
He groaned as he saw Iaine waiting for him by the river again. He was not in the mood to deal with that uppity woman right now. He knew she was one of his instructors, but Mozenrath tried to blend in with the forest before she could catch sight of him. Too late, Iaine's eyes spotted him quick as a hawks and she smiled in that infuriating way she had.
"Well…" she said and placed a hand against her pretty chest in mock surprise "Don't you clean up handsome." She locked her eyes on him and Mozenrath felt a twitch at the corner of his mouth. It was true, he looked by far better than when he'd first arrived. He only ached a little from his injuries now, most of them having healed. Now that they knew he was going to be staying for a while, he'd been given three or fours outfits fitting to his station as a druid candidate. He looked good in the off white trimmed with dark yellow and Celtic patterns. He even had a few bronze bracelets around his wrists that greatly improved the look of his bone hand.
Mozenrath nodded and turned his face away from her. He simply could not trust himself not to act stupid when Iaine stared at him. She laughed and he felt an angry blush creep across his cheeks.
"I'm not using it right now. I promise." She touched his shoulder and Mozenrath relaxed a little bit. "So what shall we do today? Another lesson in running?" At first Mozenrath thought she was joking, but with a shot Iaine took off, her strong legs moving at a lightning pace. Mozenrath stood there for a moment feeling very stupid, then took off, determined not to let her feel superior.
Iaine was a little surprised when Mozenrath footsteps feel in behind hers. She took a soft, careful breath, making a great show of it just as he was catching up with her and put on an extra burst of speed. Just as she thought, Mozenrath tried to copy her and choked himself, falling behind. Iaine sighed and slowed her pace, turning around to watch him slow. "You're a poor runner. I thought for sure last time was just a fluke."
Mozenrath gave her a glare so deadly she almost reeled from it. But Iaine sat down beside him and cross her legs, closing her eyes. "You need to learn to breath right." She said softly and took a deep breath, expanding her chest and cooling the heat inside from the sprint. "Sit beside me." She said softly.
Surprisingly, Mozenrath obeyed. She began showing him how to move his lungs properly, and as he started to calm himself, Iaine allowed herself enough room to think.
These exercises, all this training and teaching. If he'd had his gauntlet, it wouldn't be necessary. Which was precisely why they had put the damn thing well out of harms way. This was druid magic, not sloppy necromantic power. It was like comparing a tapestry in the King's Hall to a child's dirt drawings. Iaine knew that when compared to the mass of energy inside the gauntlet, Mozenrath own powers amounted to little.
What was it one of her lover had said. "It's not the size, it's how you use it."
As she remembered, he proved his statement quite well.
Mozenrath noticed Iaine smile wistfully and decided not to ask. From what he noticed, these Celtic women had very little in the way of morals. (Not that he had anything in memory to compare it to.) It felt pretty much like a woman belonged to her father until she began to seek out a husband. And until she found a man to her liking… well that part varied from women to woman. Some seemed to share themselves like a roast oxen at a victory feast. Others seemed completely asexual, oblivious to the bodies joys.
Iaine herself seemed to be somewhere in the middle. He knew from watching Essus reactions that at least one lover had graced her bed. And she flirted freely, though she didn't seem to have that goal in mind. He couldn't quite bring himself to ask, never mind the bawdy talk that went for humor around here.
"Very good." Iaine said quietly and Mozenrath noticed that they had begun breathing in rhythm. "Now…do me a favor…" Very very slowly, Iaine raised her arm and pointed to a little poppy flower only a yard or two away. "Watch."
Mozenrath tilted his head, trying to see what she was staring so intently at. It took him a moment, and he felt a soft creeping of energy come over him. Suddenly he realized what he was looking at. A small dark woman, maybe the size of his index finger was dancing around the petals in some kind of drugged elation. He noticed the light hit her back, and wings illuminate before him. "Oh…!" he said in shock and the little creature looked at him, startled.
Iaine laughed and the thing looked at her. She breathed in and extended her fingers, a thin trail of white smoke coming from her finger tips. The little woman touched it gingerly and nodded, bowing back down to the poppy to continue her euphoria. Mozenrath looked from the little being and back to the woman sitting beside him.
Iaine, apparently, didn't feel it necessary to explain what she had done, just put a comforting hand on Mozenrath shoulder. "She's a fay. A little one."
"What is a fey?" Mozenrath asked, eyes glues to the dancing figure.
"This one in particular is a poppy spirit. If you pluck the flower, she will live on, after all we sometimes use the power produced from this plant to make sedatives. One fay might control and entire field of flowers, or just one or two." She gestured and the field they sat in was suddenly lit by the wings of a hundred little creatures, peeking about to see who has signaled. "Sometimes, if you leave milk or honey, they will help you in small ways. Like finding things you thought lost or helping you find shelter in a storm."
"Something about this seems very familiar…" Mozenrath muttered. Little winged people in drove, little glowing balls of light…
Iaine suddenly looked terrified and made a slashing movement. The fays took flight, disappearing into the harsh glare of the sun. Mozenrath turned to ask her why she'd scared them off, but Iaine was already standing and heading back towards the brook.