“No, no crystals, at least not that we ever found. Truth be told, we looked abou’ the fields after what we could but none of us are particular good trackers. The whole village hasn’t got a hunter, we trade or buy what we need when it comes to skins and meat and whatnot.” the old dwarf answered.

Relief had washed over his face, smoothing slightly the deep and furrowed wrinkles of his brow. The fact that there were strangers willing to help was more than he could have hoped for. Promising them the best of weapons and reward the town could cobble together, the dwarf led them away from the square to pay for a meal before the trip back to the village.


They could see the smoke from miles away. The wagon lurched forward and the nags pulling it, what supplies the old dwarf had bought in the city, and the town’s saviors moved at the best pace they could. Still they watched the fields ablaze too long through the day. By the time they could see the town and the houses smoldering along the edge of town, the dwarf’s mood was manic. He abandoned the wagon to run up, and joined in the meager bucket brigade that was working in a fan from town outward to drown the fires that somehow managed to catch on scorched earth that had been attacked so recently.

More buckets of water were being lined up, free for the taking while disheveled artisans cried and scurried past.