The answer from the warlock was not the one he desired, but he had already agreed to go along. If the warlock did not have the knowledge he desired, than this venture might very well lead him to the someone who did possess the knowledge of wind magic. Salas looked around the clearing once more, taking in his new companions for however long this quest and possibly others would take. He knew little to nothing about either of them, but he assumed that the other two knew very little about each other as well. Why would tell each other more than was necessary? Extra knowledge further than that was pointless on the road; it could also get you killed or give someone an edge over you.

Salas watched and listened, two things he had grown accustomed to since the loss of his tongue, as the great dragon spoke yet again. It, or rather he, spoke of how the Withering was unable to affect the Anaxim because of the Demon Prison’s presence, but this only led to more questions and worries about the quest at hand. Could this mean the Withering was indeed a demon’s doing? The nature of the plague would make sense if this were the truth behind it. What other being besides a demon would cause a plague that ate at the souls of those infected? This would also make the plague even more difficult to destroy.

Salas leaned against the tree he had adopted since coming to this clearing. He intended to keep watch over his new companions as they slept. They might not trust him to do this task, but he was the best suited to do so, other than the dragon perhaps. He pulled one of his throwing knives, of which he was now missing one, from the harness around his chest and begin to fiddle with it, throwing it into the ground and pulling it free once more. He would be the mages’ sword on this journey as he said he would be, but he wished to become more than just a sword.