The hand of death wraps 'round my throat
As devils cloaked in sorrow float

Mozenrath had never been in battle before. At least, not that he knew of. Tristan had made it clear to him though, that a Druid's place was not on the battlefield. So then why was he here? Ah yes Iaine. Every druid had felt it, even he, when she sent the strong emotion of distress through the ground. The sensation had been so intoxicating it had made his head reel! So for the sake of a fellow Druid, Tristan had sent Mozenrath and Ossian along with the troops.

"We protect one another Mozenrath. At all costs, through good times and bad, we protect our grove." Those had been the Chief Druids words. Mozenrath had nearly scoffed. Tristan had been wise to send Ossian along, Essus would have stabbed him in the back.

Druids of course, had little to fear on the battlefield. Their white robes marked them from a hundred yards away. No fool would dare harm a druid. But still, he was no shocked when Ossian reached out and handed him a bronze sword and scabbard.

"Just in case." He said. "If Iaine is out there, captured, we can't risk leaving her rescue to another." Ossian's face was dead serious. He still, even after all these months, had no strong liking of Mozenrath's presence. The gods had decreed it, through his vision, that Mozenrath was druid potential. He would accept the necromancers station, and teach him because it was his duty. But that did not mean Ossian must be on best buddy terms with him.

"What about our magic? Why can't we use our powers to bring Iaine back?" Mozenrath demanded to know.

"Stupid boy." Ossian looked about to cuff the pale man, but for some reason stayed his hand. "Listen…" he said in a softer tone. "…don't you think we've tried that already? Something must be holding her there, restraining her from coming back or contacting us directly. Tristan could sense her aura, but it was to dull to tell where she is or what state Iaine might be in."

"And if we don't know where she is, we can't bring her back." Mozenrath concluded. "Fine, but what about her eyes? Surely no one could withstand…"

"There are some. The abysmally stupid, the divinely blessed, a family member, a very powerful witch or wizard." Ossian named them off. "Take Tristan for instance. He has known her since she was a wee little one. He wouldn't allow the kind of feelings her gaze invokes. So he simply chooses not to be effected."

"And Essus?" Mozenrath could not keep all of the brashness out of his voice.

Ossian smiled broad as the sun. "He is beneath her notice." A cry suddenly sounded from up ahead and the druids turned to see what was happening. A boy, no older than thirteen ran up, holding something in his hand. He showed it to the village leader, who took it in his hand and cast a glance back at Ossian and Mozenrath. The frown could be seen even at their distance. The leader handed it back to the boy and pointed.

Mozenrath felt his heart jump into his chest when the child came running to them, sweating from exertion with his fists clenched tightly. He looked up at Mozenrath and bit his lip. "Luchtain said to give you this?" He reached up and held open his palms.

Inside was a bent and broken primary feather from a raptors wing.

Rage, inexplicable rage rose in Mozenrath's chest. Why? It wasn't as if he had any strong feelings for Iaine. She was a fellow druid, that had to be the explanation. He would surely feel the same if someone had kidnapped Tristan. But something tingled in his right hand, as if he longed to crush something between his fingers. He handed the feather to Ossian.

"This is not possible." The elder Druid said. "No fool would dare knowingly harm a …"

"Obviously they would." Mozenrath snarled. "They wanted this feather delivered to us and us specifically. So they must know Iaine is a Druid. What's more, they know we are with the war party." Mozenrath's eyes darkened, a familiar feeling was dawning on him. He had been in a battle before. "They will be ready for us."

"Which means we have to do something to throw them off balance." Ossian said gruffly, admiring Mozenrath's perception. "Tell the chief to go on ahead." He told the boy. "We've magic to work." The child nodded and ran off, leaving the two men behind.

"What exactly are we going to do?" Mozenrath asked as Ossian lead their horses to the tree line.

"You tell me?" He said quickly. "What do you think we should do?"

Mozenrath was shocked, he'd never gotten any strong feeling of trust from the older man. Still, he felt at peace with the situation, as if this were a puzzle he was meant to solve. "We need to give our troops the advantage." He murmured. "Even just a small one. How long do you think it will take for the two armies to meet."

"Not long I would wager. Iaine was in falcon form when she saw them, and she never goes more than two days flight from our village. It was yesterday when she saw them, and I got the feeling from her emoting that they were dangerously close." Ossian looked overhead. "I would say by noon today, the battle will have begun."

"That doesn't give us much time." Mozenrath thought carefully. "Humm. Can I attach a spell to the troops themselves, something they can take with them?"

"Like an enchanted weapon?"

"No. Too many weapons, not enough time. I was thinking something a little broader." Mozenrath pointed to the mountains in the next valley, still curling with morning mist.

"Aye." Ossian's voice pitched high in approval. "It'll take a great deal of energy though."

"Just make sure I don't kill myself in the process." Mozenrath said sharply and settled down to the grass, pushing his fingers against the thick, rich earth. Already he could feel the tremor of magic running through the world beneath him. It was waiting for him, as if anticipating his needs. Mozenrath steadied himself, sending out his own requests. Even if willing, it is always better to ask.

He tried to remember Iaine's lessons in breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Let yourself relax. He closed his eyes, reaching out with his undersenses as she had said. Ironic, if he managed to save Iaine, it would be due in part to her teachings. Reaching out like that was a strangely disorienting feeling. Part of Mozenrath remained latched firmly to his body, as if anchoring his soul where it should be. Another part wafted in the breeze, reaching out with light tendrils for what it sought.

Slowly, the hills and mountains whispered to one another, asking, questioning the Druid now deep in connection. Ossian watched as Mozenrath began to unintentionally sway back and forth, muttering under his breath. When his lips stopped, the voice of the land began. A whole conversation was taking place that only he and Mozenrath were aware of. The warriors ahead of them did not hear it, only tightened their cloaks at the sudden cold of the day. The reached for their fabric, surprised to find it wet with morning dew. If the leader noticed, he said nothing, only marched forward.

Mozenrath felt as if his insides were turning to ice. His skin prickled as his face felt cold. He began to shake, brow furrowed as if trying to keep warm. The whispering, subtle and soft, began to draw away, and when he fell, it was Ossian who caught him.

"Come on boy. No time to sleep." He said, smacking Mozenrath's cheek.

"Did it work?" Mozenrath asked, groaning when he opened his eyes.

"We will see soon enough." Ossian said and handed Mozenrath a flask of ale. "Drink a little and eat some bread. We don't have enough time for you to ground yourself again." He helped Mozenrath lift himself onto the horse as they charged after the warriors.

Mozenrath held his temple while simultaneously grasping the horses reigns. He had to keep himself on the beast, no matter how bad the thundering hooves made his head ache.