20 The Preacher

At around midnight, Bedona woke up to the sound of whispers. She opened her eyes just a slit and saw Tristan lying on the other side of the fire. Her eyes searched for Moswen but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. The sound came from somewhere above her head and it didn't seem like a conversation, more like a rambling to oneself, yes, it was someone talking.

She moved her head just a fraction to get a glimpse without making any noise. Moswen was there, with his back to them sitting far under the moonlight, his large form rimmed by a soft light in front of him. Bedona shifted more, slowly and saw corners of scrolls from the sides of his body.

She waited and watched from her position on her makeshift bedroll. The man seemed busy, too engrossed in what laid in front of him. It didn't take long for her to realize that the large man was reading something. Her curiosity was peaked right then to find out what could be so interesting that he had decided to read it alone so late at night.

She got up, painfully lethargic and deathly silent. She wanted sneak around and get in front of him without him knowing. But her heart almost stopped when Moswen moved his head to his side and then toward her.

"Was I too loud?"

He whispered; no anger, no alarm just a calm query. Bedona took a sigh of relief and went to him, silent as to not wake Tristan, who just took a turn startling both of them.

"No, I am a light sleeper."

She too whispered as she eyed the opened scrolls lying on the ground. Each with markings of intricate symbols and letters she didn't recognize. He was stacking them together, already done with what he was doing.

"Apologies," he whispered and looked her as she tried to decipher the symbols. "Can you read them?" He cocked his head slightly and asked in a light tone, surprised. She shook her head, the symbols though a little familiar were not anything she had ever come across. She always was proud of her literacy, not often she came across something she wouldn't at least understand even a portion of. But this, she couldn't make the heads and tails of anything.

"This is the Old Tongue." His reply was like a consolation; like it was only natural she wouldn't know. It did nothing to make her feel good.

"Which?" There were plenty of old tongues, language changing over time, adapting, evolving. She liked to think that at least she recognized all of them even if she couldn't read all, but this. She wondered if the man knew what he was talking about.

But as if reading her mind he quickly answered, "The Old Tongue. Tongue of the Divines."

The Divines, a race that was said to be the closest to the gods before the Great War. According to the legends, they aided the humans, along with the Endahins in the War. But no record of their existence was found after that. Some say that they had retreated to their home world in the heavens, after bearing heavy losses, and some say they never existed in the first place. There were other lesser known theories but these two were the most believed.

Of course if someone said they were reading the tone of Divinity Bedona was bound to suspect. If it was to be believed then Moswen accomplished what was known to be the greatest historical discoveries of the century. She eyed him skeptically but didn't say anything.

"And you can read it?"

Bedona hadn't meant to sound snide but wasn't sure if she succeeded. Moswen didn't sound offended however. He just sighed and relaxed his back.

"Some." He paused and looked at her with the corner of his eyes and pointed at the second tome from left, "This here is a spell, a protection charm." He put his finger on the biggest symbol, a half circle with what looked like a twisted forked tail coiled inside it, " this here is 'Arg'," then he pointed the smaller circle right beside it, " and it is 'Di'" and it here is 'Metzb'. They are-"

"-the Guardian Svires." She finished for him. He nodded satisfied and not least bit surprised. The tome was suddenly making sense to her, like she'd just opened her eyes. Now that she knew what she was looking at, she understood some of it.

Bedona pointed at the triangular marking with three circles inside it, "that would make this 'Bisbva'. The barrier."

"Yes." He nodded, "but it's just called 'Visva' here. Same concept but slightly different in practice."

He didn't elaborate more but she wasn't paying attention either. She was reading a divine tome. How could she think of anything else? Though there was no proof that what he said was true but the similarity of it from what she learned was the Vestirion Old Tongue and the simplicity it had compared to it, she was almost certain. And even if it was not that, it was still much more advanced than what she had studied, which was unlikely seeing as magic was a gift to humans from Divinity after all.

"So you are a scholar too?" She asked softly not even trying to hide the awe in her voice or face.

"No." He answered with a chuckle, like the idea itself was ridiculous. He gathered the tomes and rolled them together, "I only dabble in healing and protection."

He fished out a small leather pouch from under his clothing, the wrapping around his chest, and put the scrolls in it. He could still be a scholar and everything he said he was, she thought to herself. He straightened, and looked at her with set eyes.

"This place you said, ah… Miga-"

"Migiran." She corrected.

"Yes, Migiran, thank you. Is it far?"

"No, just the town beyond those woods." She pointed northeast. She wondered if he came directly from Merdidante, skipping Migiran altogether. Strange! Since it was a long way and one wouldn't unless they were in a rush. But Moswen looked like he had all the time in the world.

Moswen sighed as he packed the last of the scrolls inside his pouch.

"You can go back to sleep now, I won't make any more noise." He reassured her with a smile but she had other things in mind.

"Sir, Moswen, I would like to learn from you?" she asked softly and studied his face to see if she read his answer on it. He just stared into the flames, face not betraying anything. "I will pay you of course." She said even though she didn't have much with her now.

"You… want to learn healing?" he sounded a little surprised but didn't look at her. He chuckled slightly and her heart sank expecting a negative reply. "I… will think about it, if that's alright?" He looked at her now, saying it more like a request. Like it was he who was asking, not her.

"Yes, of course. Good night, Sir Moswen."

She bid him farewell and returned to her spot. She heard a soft goodnight behind her from Moswen's direction.