22 Revelation

Tristan spat as he got back to his feet. His grin was gone and was replaced by a pout of a child after getting his toy snatched.

"Ti-Tristan, what do you think you are doing?"

Bedona's world swam as she too got back to her knees, using her hands to steady her head in hope of stabilize her vision and also to quench the sensation of burning.

Moswen and Tristan stood on either sides of her, facing each other, one looking like a giant monster and the other a small brave hero standing up to him, but in here Moswen was the hero and Tristan, the monster.

"Wait your turn Mosei, do not interfere!"

With that Tristan started walking toward Bedona. She stumbled back without thinking and fell on her butt as her legs tangled in her dress. She looked at Tristan in horror as she tried to get back up. A blast of wind right at his feet stopped Tristan in his tracks; he turned his head to look at Moswen so quick Bedona feared his neck would snap.

"What is this? Do you really care? Have you really taken a student Mosei?" Tristan stopped to point at Bedona, " and such a filthy liar too?"

Moswen looked at her, his face unreadable. Bedona winced but wasn't in a state to say anything, barely able to be on her feet.

"Stop this, please."

Moswen begged, his voice tired and withdrawn. Tristan stopped, face suddenly devoid of any expression, a grim silence that unsettled Bedona more than his manic grin.

"No." Tristan turned to Bedona. He sounded solemn, sad, and immediately added, "Stop me if you wish." Ignoring Moswen, he approached Bedona. All the dark amusement she had been feeling in him was gone and for the first time he actually looked angry. Bedona took a long breath and felt her stomach drop. That skinny boy barely into adulthood felt like death to her.

Sand blasted in front of his feet but he didn't stop. Another explosion, bigger than before and he looked at Moswen.

"I can't let you do that."

Moswen too sounded grim, resigned but resolute. Tristan only gave him a passing glance before striding toward Bedona again.

Bedona waited in silence staring at Tristan like he was an inevitable disaster. Her legs had long since given up on running; her heart too had calmed down and resigned to her fate.

"I am sure no one will miss you. You are a lying, murdering bitch after all."

Tristan stood right in front of her, his hand softly holding up her chin. His eyes were closed but he acted as if he saw everything. He dipped his head to look at her feet.

"Still trying to fight?" He murmured.

Not two moments later, a flash hit a few feet away from her, then a thunder, just like one would hear in a rainy day. Then a scream followed it. No. There were two screams, one over another. Loud and shrill, one that would make a throat bleed.

Bedona fell to her knees and saw Tristan doing the same in front of her. There was smoke oozing out of his head and back. She physically felt her heart pump blood into her ears. She was panting and her throat was hoarse. She felt a big invisible hand grab her by her waist and drag her through the air. She landed unceremoniously on the sand right by Moswen's feet.

"Stay behind me."

Moswen didn't look at her as he said that, his eyes were on Tristan the entire time as Bedona struggled to get up. She heard Tristan laugh, and leaned slightly behind Moswen to look at him.

"Is that how you're going to play?" Tristan said in between his laugh and spread his arms to show his wounded self. "I don't think I can take any more of this." He was charred and smoking, burnt marks appeared in his exposed skin but no sign of pain.

Bedona realized she too had burns and an uncomfortably tingling enveloped her body. Not quite pain but very damn close to it. Her arms were trembling and she had trouble focusing her sight but her mind felt clearer, like a cloud had been lifted off of her.

"That bitch needs to die Mosie, I will go through you if I have to." Tristan limped toward them. The voice was winded. Bedona felt a hint of annoyance from it.

It seemed whatever Moswen had done took more out of Tristan than it first appeared as he stumbled and fell to his knees just from walking a few steps. Seeing it as a chance Bedona kicked on the ground and felt the tremor reverberate all the way to Tristan, fast as lightning, and converted into a sandy explosion right in front of him.

"Pathetic!" Tristan wheezed and turned his head up. Eyes closed and an arrogant smirk, which now looked very different somehow.

"Don't!" Moswen hissed; his palm blocking her view of Tristan. Bedona eyed him in annoyance but didn't say anything.

"Why stop her? Not like she can do anything with that pitiful effort."

Tristan didn't try to get up this time. Instead, he decided to settle in his kneeling position as he rested his weight back on his feet. Moswen started for him but paused as soon as Tristan's head flicked like a chicken.

"One more step Mosei and I explode." His voice had lost all the amusement now.

Moswen pleaded again, and Bedona was certain if it went any longer he would kneel too.

"Stop me then Mosei." Tristan's earlier demeanor had returned and he spoke with his eyes shut again. "Or you can give her to me."

"Oh, I have had enough of your ranting."

Bedona suddenly ran past Moswen, ignoring his cries. Moswen called her from behind but she paid him no mind, eyes only on the young boy's grinning visage.

"Toying with my mind? Making sure I can't fight back?" She hissed at Tristan who only grinned wider. She had thought she was just too afraid to move but that didn't make sense. It was not her. And Moswen's spell from minutes earlier had given her a clearer mind than ever. A collateral boon.

"Why? I thought you liked playing with minds." Tristan paused and waited for her response. Bedona didn't give any heed and sent another wave of sand in his direction which he deftly dodged. "Or is it fair if it's just you who did the playing?"

Despite her mind warning otherwise, Bedona let her smile slip. "So that was what it was about? What can I say? Weak minds are just so hard to resist tempering with."

She hadn't expected it to but it really hit the mark. Tristan shrieked so loud that the shockwave of it halted her mid-run and threw her about ten steps back.

The force of it was like getting hit by a large hammer that knocked all the wind out of her but there didn't seem to be any lasting injury. Tristan was floating now. His closed eyes and the ever present mocking expression showed only dark amusement, waiting.

"This is too much, please I beg you, stop!"

Moswen slowly walked near Tristan whose eyes never let the sight of Bedona. She didn't understand Moswen. Not for the first time she thought that he wasn't talking just to the boy. She had some idea about what was happening but wasn't certain. She waited, not daring to step closer. Hard to see but there was a somewhat transparent whirling field of sand around Tristan, It felt like fire, a heat of a kind that made it difficult even to stand so far from it. The mild shadow it created on the warm sand underneath from the mid-day Sun made it possible for her to be sure there was a flimsy orb of sort around Tristan.

What she had done to Tristan in the forest, she had regretted it. She thought he would wake up in time and return, no one knew the way better than him after all. She was hurt then, betrayed and helpless, not one of the best times to bet on someone's life. Hard as it might be for her to agree, at that time, she was not much caring about Tristan's well-being, not at all in fact.

Bedona was lucky that help came when it did and he was brought in to the temple before sundown, by Olean.

"I am sorry, Tristan." She shouted loud enough that she was heard over that whirling noise around him. Moswen's head took a sharp turn, his gaze clearly surprised. Bedona didn't know what it was with that man. 'Did he not see it was all my fault?' "For what I did to you that day, abandoning you in the forest, I am sorry."

It was just for a fraction of a moment but Tristan was confused. And that was all the sign she needed to confirm her doubt. There was more to the story than her putting Tristan to sleep and leaving him alone in the woods.

"Too late." Tristan said but with no real conviction behind it. Whatever it was that had angered him, what Bedona referred to was not it. In fact, he didn't even remember what she was talking about. She realized she wasn't talking to Tristan. And suddenly Moswen's reactions made a little more sense to her. She cautioned herself to not reveal anything at the moment and remind him of that day's incident.

She thought about what to do next. Knowing the secret wouldn't help if she had no way of reasoning with him. Whoever was controlling Tristan was too strong for her to approach, let alone bring down. The scorching force-field around the boy wouldn't even let them get closer.

Moswen moved straight toward Tristan, an embodiment of a moving mountain, heavy and steady. His face had lost its emotions and that terrified Bedona.

He stood right outside the floating field of nearly invisible sand, quietly staring at the young boy who maybe was five times smaller than him. A comical showdown but Tristan held all the menace. Bedona saw Moswen's hand tremble in a tight fist.

"You are going to hurt me again?"

Tristan's voice was innocent but the mocking undertone wasn't hidden. They were paying their complete attention to each other, forgetting her existence altogether. For the first time Bedona felt like she could breathe.

"No!" Moswen punched the sand field, and a geyser of blood was everywhere. Tristan screamed with shock, so unlike how he'd been till now. The force field dropped. So did Moswen's forearm, on the ground.

Bedona's quick reflexes prompted her to cook-up another spell, something peculiar and impractical, something she had never exercised before. But at that bizarre moment, taking a risk was all she could do.

This time she didn't kick the ground, she crouched instead. And in a blink of an eye, she felt sand forming below her, and she prepared, flexing her legs, as the pressure was building under her feet. Quickly, the warm sand elevated under her, the force making made her dizzy. And just like that it burst into a slanted pillar, pushing her forward, directly into Tristan.

Tristan didn't see it coming, he didn't have the time. Bedona pushed her hand forward and concentrated as she got near. When Tristan turned his eyes she was already on him, her palm fell on his forehead as she crashed into him. Another spell. The same one she had used on him the day before. The one she used to wipe the boy's memory. And just before she forcefully retracted herself from him, she thought she saw a smile in Tristan's surprised face.

Bedona hit white sand hard enough to feel like it was concrete, barely avoiding the rock and doing any more damage to herself. She took a moment to lie on her back, trying to slowly move her limbs. She was in pain all over but nothing seemed broken, at least for now. She turned to see Tristan and Moswen standing above the boy, his severed long hand now sowing itself with a glowing thread of golden light. He was looking at her, staggered just as Tristan was.

But Bedona was sure no one was more surprised than her. Moswen's magic seemed to jump one tier up than before every time she witnessed it. Reattaching limbs now, yes she needed to learn that, she said to herself.

Moswen came up to her after he did a quick check up of the boy. Bedona hadn't gotten up, she was sure she could if she tried, but it would be painful and she wanted to garner some sympathy from Moswen.

"That was impressive." He said, no mocking, no false praise, just like she expected of him. The man was simple.

"What did you do to him?" Moswen asked as he sat down near her and placed his now attached hand on her head.

Warmth filled her as the pain ceased. Like water drained from a small tub, Bedona felt the agony leaving.

"A memory wipe spell. He won't remember what happened this past hour."

Moswen nodded solemnly.

Gradually, Bedona had begun to feel better. "He was possessed." She said softly, but loud enough that Moswen would hear.

"Yes."

"And YOU knew who it was that possessed him."

"Yes."

"A friend?"

Moswen sat silent for a while and then sighed.

"No, no. just an old acquaintance."

"A…ghost?" ridiculous even to her, but Bedona had to ask.

"Huh?" Moswen looked at her not knowing what she meant and then the realization seemed to dawn on him. "No." he answered but didn't say anything after that.

Bedona got up when he had removed his hand. It seemed he knew exactly when she was all healed.

"I have been thinking about what you said last night."

Bedona froze, not knowing what to expect now. He could say yes, and so very easily he could say no. of course if he did say no, she would pester him more. Though it didn't sound like a good idea.

"I will teach you what I know and you will help me look after him. I need… to find a way to get him out of her clutch."

"Her?"

"Yes." Moswen answered but didn't elaborate. "Help me with him and I will teach you as much as I can." He got up, and so did Bedona.

"Yes sir." She replied without any wound to her pride. Price of his teaching was nothing for her and she didn't know how else to respond. In fact it felt like a gift to her. After all, she owed a debt to the boy for her little treachery, and exorcising him was something she was willing to do even for free. She would find a way to pay them back later, Bedona promised to herself.