Two days passed, and Xavier continued to watch the lizard from a distance. It was still alive, in the same place, in the same position; sometimes it tried to rise to its feet without success. The bodies of the mercenaries began to rot and stink, but no monster appeared.
"That thing is very lucky, or something is happening."
Taking another risk, he decided to approach. He was watching the lizard while also being alert to his surroundings. He didn't know what kind of creature could be hiding, waiting for its chance to strike, just like he was. A week had passed, and despite the smell of the bodies, no other monster showed up.
'Well, you're still alive,' said Xavier, approaching.
He covered his nose with a piece of cloth to avoid the smell, although it did not do much. The decomposing bodies emitted a repulsive odor that produced nausea. Flies and worms covered the bodies; the abdomens of some of the corpses had swollen like greenish gas balls.
'Dragons are hard to kill.'
'Well, let's say that I accept that you are a dragon; you're dying anyway.' Xavier said, examining the wounds. To his surprise, they were healing, except for those where the arrow or spear was still housed in the wound.
'It is inevitable,' said the creature.
'I don't understand; the wounds are healing.'
'It's not the wounds that are the cause... Would you like to hear a story?'
'I'm sorry, but I don't intend to stay here long. Sooner or later, some monster will be attracted to the bodies, the smell of blood, or something else. You can't fight, and I don't want to be anyone's dinner.'
'No creature will come near us. My brothers and I ate the strongest ones already. And the rest are too afraid.' The lizard said, 'Listen, human, I am the last of my race; I don't have much time left; at least let our history survive.'
Xavier had no reason to hear the nonsense of a dying lizard. However, he remembered his times of despair after escaping the Liev Tower and being lost in the Morr Jungle. The fear of knowing you were about to lose your life was not something easy to forget, not to mention the loneliness of not being able to trust or rely on anyone.
'Well, I'll hear you.'
'Thank you; I never thought I'd say my last words to a human; after all, your people destroyed my world and condemned my species. But I have no choice. In the end, all that remains of the dragons is a story told from a man's mouth. Ironies of life, I suppose.'
The lizard remained silent for a few minutes, as if organizing his ideas. He knew he was at the gates of death, alone, far from his brothers. He carried with him the heavy burden of the survival of his race, but he failed. His life was extinguished, and that of his brothers as well. He was the most mature of the larvae; if he didn't survive, his brothers had no chance. This human had been his only companion for a week. He got used to detecting him roaming around. It gave him some relief to know that he wouldn't die alone, even if that company came from a human. He was afraid—afraid of death, afraid of being the last of his race.
'My name is Temma, and I am one of the last of a race that has existed for millennia...' Temma told him about his origins, how his world looked, the animals roaming around, the green valeys, the nest, the All-father, Reivax, the elder, Baham, Meneol, and Floo, his birth and growth as a larva, the betrayal of humans, and how they saw the All-father burst before the world of dragons disappeared. He told him about their traditions, the stones they swallowed, and how they were killing him and his brothers.
It took Temma almost a whole day to tell his story between heavy breaths and pauses.
'Please don't let my race be lost in oblivion.' It was the prayer of a dying being.
'You know, I understand how you feel.' For the first time in years, Xavier lowered his guard. He wasn't being cold and indifferent as usual. He was really talking to someone for the first time.
'The humans, my "race," are like this; you are not the only one whom they have stung. My name is Xavier, Xavier de Vonder.' Xavier told Temma his story. How he was born in misery, how he was discriminated against for the uselessness of shadow magic. Clinton's lies, the way he was accused, persecuted, and betrayed by everybody, and how he had to run away over and over again. He told his darkest secrets, like wanting to soothe the ghosts that tortured his dreams, and confessed his crimes and all the things he did just to survive.
Perhaps it was a stupid decision, but relying on his instinct to perceive threats, Xavier approached Temma. If the creature had enough strength and the desire to kill him, this was the perfect time.
"Don't trust humans."
Old Reivax's words resounded in Temma's mind. However, it did not matter; he could feel that his death was approaching. He still had the strength for a final attack. The human looked weak and fragile; killing him at once was possible, but he gained nothing with that; on the contrary, he lost his only companion in his last moments and the only one who could tell the story of his people.
'Can I?'
Temma nodded.
Xavier began to pull out the arrows and spears stuck in the hard skin of the creature.
'Then you are not a dragon; you are a salamander, are you?'
'No, I am a failure; I'm going to die; my Stone of Life is killing me.'
'I'm sorry.' That was not an empty platitude; he meant it.
They remained in an uncomfortable silence for a while.
'Well, I think I should go,' said Xavier. The stench of the dead bodies was unbearable.
'I understand,' replied Temma. He didn't want him to go, but at least he had no more arrows on his back.
Temma was afraid to be alone, but what remained of his pride did not allow him to say it. To his surprise, Xavier had not left. He was still in the trees, watching from a distance. Three more days passed. Xavier approached the creature again.
"What a horrible way to die," he thought as he saw Temma breathing with more difficulty than before, his eyes half closed as if he were about to lose consciousness. "And this could be my future." He imagined himself in a similar situation in the not-too-distant future. Myasma disease would kill him sooner or later.
'Temma, if you want, I can...'
Ironically, Xavier was unable to feel sorry for other humans. But this creature, this being without a future, reminded him of his own life. He saw himself reflected in this monster, his past and also his future.
Temma understood the message.
'Not yet; I'm not going... to surrender yet; there is... a chance; I don't want... to die yet.' His breath was interrupted, and he paused between the words.
'Okay, if there's anything I can do...' An idea popped into Xavier's mind.
"Temma, he has a rock in his body that is killing him. I am a shadow magician; the magic of transformation is our most useful skill; if it is a rock, it is not alive».
'Temma, I have an idea. Do you want to try it?' Xavier explained his idea.
'I am a shadow magician; one of my skills is the magic of transformation. It doesn't work on living things. But it can affect materials and objects. Maybe I can reduce the intensity of that stone in your body or something.'
Temma accepted the offer; he had nothing to lose anyway. For a second, he thought of the stones he and his brothers had swallowed. They were very different from the normal cave stones. "The great father always gives us what we need." This human could be his salvation.
Xavier approached Temma, putting his hands on his throat, and searched until he found a hot spot. He had no idea what would happen. He had never used transformation magic on something that he was not touching directly, and, as far as he knew, it was not possible.
"You won't know until you try" he thought as the shadow magic of his body tried to reach the stone inside Temma and make it change to something less intense. He imagined a burning stone whose heat became less intense.
As if it were a sponge, the rock in the body of the salamander began to absorb Xavier's magical energy. A feeling of warmth began to rise from his hand. His magic energy dropped rapidly. The heat of his hand increased uncontrollably, and his veins began to burn and become black. He wanted to withdraw his hand, but he couldn't. As if stuck to Temma's skin, an intense pain as if he had put his hand in boiling water passed through his arm and ascended to his chest. He began to cough heavily; his chest was burning; something rose through his throat with the coughing; a mouthful of black mucus came out of his mouth and fell to the ground. Xavier could not breathe; the pain in his arm and chest became unbearable, and he lost consciousness.
For his part, the dying Temma had not noticed much, and a slight feeling of relief in his throat told him that what Xavier was trying to do was working. Then he saw him fall to the ground, with his mouth filled with a dark substance and his arm covered with black lines.
'Uh!' Xavier woke up with an unpleasant taste in his mouth and a headache worthy of a hangover from the cheapest rum of the entire dynasty.
'What happened?' he said, turning himself up.
'You spit a black thing, and you lost consciousness.' Temma answered him. His appearance was more energetic. He breathed more easily and even moved, though he could not get up yet.
'How long have I been unconscious?'
'Half a day, more or less.'
'I see you're better.'
'I am, but what about you?'
'I'm fine,' said Xavier, breathing deeply. The feeling of oppression in his chest had improved. He remembered that moment before he lost consciousness when he spit out that tar-black thing. 'In fact, I am better than ever,' he said, rising up with some unease.
'Look at your arm.'
Xavier looked at his arm, where his veins should be. He could see burned skin, like a dark scar traveling from his hand to his chest. He had a slight discomfort in his skin, but it didn't hurt.
"If this much is the price to improve my disease, I will take it. It's not that bad." He thought, looking at his arm, that he seemed to have a tattoo. His magic energy had partially recovered. He knew the feeling, he had undoubtedly entered a state of energy depletion.
'It's nothing; I'll be fine.'
His stomach began to crumble. Despite the stench and the unpleasant sight provided by the bodies, he was hungry.
'I'm going to eat something. I will be right back.'
Xavier lost himself in the trees. He had enough food for a long time. His rations of dried meat, cured cheese, hard bread, water, and wine would spoil before he could eat it all. They were, after all, the rations of eighteen mercenaries. After eating something, he returned to Temma's side. The Salamander improved with every minute that passed. The man and the salamander looked into each other's eyes. Temma was already able to move with some freedom, which made him dangerous. Temma's gaze indicated doubt; Xavier's showed a bit of caution and fear.
'I need your help,' said Temma after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. 'Maybe my brothers are still alive. Please save them.'
Xavier nodded. He picked up his spoils and rations. His motivation was simple: saving more salamanders was equivalent to treating his illness. Although he had his doubts, what will happen when the salamanders no longer need him? Again, he had to take risks.
'You are the guide,' said Xavier, raising his right hand.
'Climb up,' said Temma, lying his body down. This was the fastest; he didn't mind carrying a human on his shoulder as if he were a cargo animal if he could save his brothers.
Xavier climbed to the back of the salamander. The creature began to walk at a fast pace through the forest. He couldn't go too fast; he was still recovering, and there was a risk that Xavier would fall. Together, they advanced to the depths of the Morr Jungle. Xavier did not know it, but all kinds of animals and monsters fled and departed from their way; from the fierce wolves to the imposing basilisks, none wanted to oppose the new masters of the jungle.