I went to the cluster of idle-looking men a short distance away. “Sorry for the wait. Let’s get a blaze going—does anyone still have matches?”
“No, there’s no more. We used them all.”
The frustrated answer came from a man with a dark complexion and square jaw. Unlike others, he wore simple armor made by pounding metal sheets into leather.
“And you are?”
“Lostobi the Death-Cheater… And here I thought it would be easy to light a simple fire. I was actually a mercenary before becoming a guard. I’ve taken many a trip into the dungeon. Always had firestarters with me, too. Not like they did much good…”
I nodded, then gave him a pat on the back. “Understood. Don’t get yourself too down about it. Conditions are awful.”
Lighting anything was a technical ability that required training. It wasn’t uncommon to fail at igniting a fire in the wild, even with matches, burners, solid fuel, or any other civilized implements. In fact, in a crisis situation like this, where you first had to procure the tools yourself, starting one became dramatically more challenging.
Even modern explorers, Earth ones anyway, would only strike out once they knew all their gear was in order. Throw someone into a jungle with nothing, without letting them prepare, and most folk would die.
“Does anyone have other equipment we could use to light it aside from matches? I saw someone using flint and steel before.”
“I’ve got them here. You want them?”
“I’d like to borrow them, yes.”
Lostobi took a flint and striker out of a pouch and gave them to me. Both the sharpened rock and the steel plate had wooden handles on them.
The theory behind using such tools was to bang the hard stone and the metal together. This caused tiny metallic shards to come off and ignite from friction. The sparks would touch whatever fuel you had, catching aflame.
Because of how extraordinarily tiny and quick-burning the scattering metal fragments were, you needed something very flammable, or they wouldn’t ignite it. Admittedly, using such delicate objects wasn’t the best option, but having them at all brightened our prospects. Otherwise, we would have had to make the tools ourselves. My head hurt just thinking about having to build a bow drill to start a fire.
I set off walking between the pillars, trying to find the most optimal place to work.
The first imperative when building a fire was to pick a suitable location. The wrong spot could ruin all your efforts later on. It was common sense to avoid moist or muddy ground, but there was more to it than that. If you didn’t check the direction of the wind, smoke might drift into your sleeping area.
Fortunately, the airflow wasn’t bad here. It passed through the pillars near the camp, heading toward the river. That suggested there was a location behind our refuge where air was slipping through. Investigating that could wait until later, though.
The stone floor was cold, but dry enough. The soot blackening the floor in spots was comforting. It meant others had successfully built fires here in the past.
I didn’t know who they were, but I’d follow in their footsteps. I settled on a spot at the base of one of the pillars for the fire.
Placing my back to the pillar, I crouched down. As if in response, people gathered around me. The women had joined up with the rest again, so dozens surrounded me now.
All right, here we go. I rubbed my hands together and got to work.
Fire needed three elements.
The first was heat. The second, fuel—and the third, oxygen. A flame would only start to burn through a chain reaction of this triad.
It might seem backward that heat was needed to start the blaze, but it made perfect sense when you understood the process.
All that was required was enough to warm something small. The heat produced by the friction from rubbing wood together, the tiny combustion of powder, an electrical spark, sunlight focused through a lens, the exothermic reaction of a lithium-ion battery—there were all sorts of things you could use. Admittedly, the filament in my SureFire could likely have been helpful, but light was a precious resource in Million Dungeon; I didn’t want to take it apart unless necessary. In my experience, the easiest thing to use was a magnesium firestarter, but I couldn’t hope for something like that right now. All I had on hand was flint and steel. First, I’d make the embers by striking them together then transferring the sparks to the fuel.
The fuel used for this method of ignition was called tinder.
I took a scrap of cloth about the size of a handkerchief from the things I’d brought over before, placed it on the ground, and then piled up dried-out vegetable scraps, bird feathers, dry fur, clumps of dust, and anything else that looked like it might be suitable. All of it was obviously garbage, but given our desperation, these were truly irreplaceable treasures.
Looking to the small crowd, I asked, “Can someone lend me a knife? I lost mine on the way here.”
As expected, several people had such blades with them. In a society where carrying weapons wasn’t illegal, it was natural to see people walking around with edged tools. If I was going to be in this world for a long time, acquiring a proper knife for myself was a necessity.
Several people offered theirs to me. I chose a short-bladed one that looked easy to use, then cut a bedsheet scrap into even smaller portions. These, I rubbed into the ground, smearing soot until it was black. As I worked, I spoke.
“I need some of you to do something for me. In the stuff I poured out of those bundles earlier, there were a bunch of broken chair legs. And there should have been small wooden boxes and baskets, too. Could a few of you break them apart for me?”
Several quick-witted refugees nodded and swiftly left the crowd.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect. If you can, split the chair legs and wooden scraps lengthwise. Also,” I continued, addressing the ones who were still here, “it would be a big help if you could share with me any of the objects I’m about to list, or anything like them. Dried-out tree bark or resin, dried fruits or nuts, oil, used bandages, gunpowder, books or paper, clothing stuffing—basically, anything you think will burn.”
Each of the people here reached into their pockets and pouches to search.
“What about clothes?” Potesara asked. “We have a bunch we were trying to burn before…”
“No, take your clothes back. You may get by with less clothing now, but your bodies will cool the more time passes. If you have any spare clothes, ask Savakan to give them to anyone who isn’t looking well.”
I hit the flint and steel together. There was a sharp noise, and sparks flew, briefly illuminating my surroundings. For that instant, these sparks had a temperature of over a thousand degrees Celsius. It only lasted a moment, though, so it wouldn’t leave burns on a person’s skin, nor would it easily transfer to the tinder.
I rolled up a small piece of garbage, then banged the flint stone and striker together in such a way that the sparks would fly to it.
The spectators began to speak in hushed voices as they watched my efforts.
“We usually just have a neighbor share their fire with us.”
“My dad was angry with me for a week when I let the fire in the oven go out. This must have been why.”
“And even when the fire went out, we could just have that will-o’-the-wisp the warlock was raising breathe on it.”
“Really puts into perspective how rough it is losing your magic user.”