When Hatash got back to his feet, still a little dazed by the shock, he found the stranger standing there, watching him calmly.

“What happened?”

Even as he asked the question, he remembered. The ceiling. He looked around and found that it had caved in only in one spot. Right in front of their only exit. They were stuck in here with no way out!

He rushed to the door and tried to pull the rocks off. Some of the boulders were big, heavy, and stuck. He also quickly understood that moving some of them might make more of the ceiling collapse.

Hatash stepped away, frowning. His eyes darted back to Sebharan, who still was watching him.

“You’re not going to help me, are you?”

“It is not my quest,” the other man said softly.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

As expected, the stranger said nothing.

With a grunt, Hatash looked around the room again.

The bed was covered with dust and pebbles. Some of the shelves had broken and spilled the weapons they carried on the floor. Rocks had piled on the desk, pushing books to the ground, tearing through the maps. The portrait of the beautiful woman now hung askew...

He paused, staring at the wall. Walking closer, he examined the surface. Pulled off the painting and set it down, then ran his fingers across the stones. There was something here. An odd protuberance, in the shape of a star. He pushed on it and it sank into the wall. This produced a new rumble and, for a moment, he worried the ground would shake again and that the entire room would cave in. Instead, a panel of rock slid open, revealing a dark tunnel. It was narrow and damp and smelled of mold, but it was the only way out.

Glowering, he glanced back at Sebharan. “I’ve half a mind to leave you here to rot.”

The stranger smiled but said nothing.

With a grunt, Hatash stepped into the tunnel. Soon, he heard the footsteps of the older man following him.

It was too narrow to turn around, and he had to keep his head low to not bump against the ceiling, so he kept his eyes set on the darkness before him as he spoke.

“I suppose you still won’t tell me what this is all about?”

“Why ask me when you already know?”

Hatash wondered what that was supposed to mean, but he didn’t bother to ask. Though it occurred to him a few minutes later that he might have been referring to this quest for wisdom nonsense. It had to be nonsense, didn’t it? How could any of this help him become a wiser man?

Wisdom was not something you could learn.

The tunnel ended at a wall. He patted the stone until he found a small alcove. Inside was a lever. When he pushed it, a grinding sound answered. A trail of light appeared and grew as the wall in front of him lifted, opening up on a once cobbled street, now partly covered by vegetation.

They stepped out into the jungle.

Hatash took a deep breath and smiled. It felt good to be alive.

He looked around and saw more ruins, with the pyramid now behind them. He turned to consider Sebharan.

“So what am I supposed to do now?”

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“What do you want to do?”

Hatash was going to say he wanted to go home, then realized it was not true. There was something else on his mind. Something that bothered him ever since he’d seen that map in the caved-in room.

The valley.

He needed to see it. To understand what was wrong. Why it was wrong. The map couldn’t have told him. He needed to see it with his own eyes.

“There’s a place,” he started slowly, “not too far from here. I know it well, but... it does not appear to be as it should be. We need to go there. I think.”

Sebharan did not look surprised. He simply nodded.

“Lead the way.”

Hatash turned and started through the trees. This, too, he realized, was different. While he remembered a forest, it should not have been as thick as this.

“Why is everything different?” he asked.

His companion remained silent.

It was starting to get on his nerves. Why was the man not answering his questions? Sure, he had always been the quiet type, ever since he’d first come to the village, but this was taking things too far. If there had ever been a time when he should have spoken, this was it.

They slowly made their way through the jungle. After two hours, trees became increasingly more sparse, until finally they were no more.

He paused and looked back. Sebharan stopped and waited. With a grunt, Hatash started again.

As they walked, they heard the sound of distant horses coming nearer. Scanning the horizon, he saw a cloud of dust rising, shapes approaching quickly. Before they knew it, they were surrounded by a dozen knights, all with their unsheathed swords pointed at them.

***

The circle of knights closed in on them, until the tip of their blades were but inches from their faces.

“Who are you and what do you do in our lands?” asked one of them.

Hatash was too confused to worry about the swords. Who were these men, what were they doing here, and why would they call these their lands? These lands belonged to no one. Except to the king, he supposed, but the king lived far away and his knights would have had no reason to come here in times of peace. Only farmers lived in these parts.

And then, there was the matter of what they wore and the colors they bore. They looked nothing like what the king’s men should look like. Their armors were dark red, while their shields displayed a hand holding a bleeding heart. The crest was unfamiliar to him.

“I am Hatash, son of Hathor,” he said. “We go beyond the hill, to the valley of Gabenach. It is not far.”

“We know the place you speak of.”

The man turned to look at his companions. They stared at each other without exchanging a word. Then the one who had spoken turned his attention back to Hatash.

“Very well. It is beyond our realm, so we will escort you to the border. If you try to deceive us or if you return this way, we will dispatch you promptly. Is this understood?”

Hatash gulped and nodded.

All swords were sheathed at the same time, as if all these men shared one mind. Four of them turned and started down the path that led to Gabenach. Hatash followed, noticing Sebharan behind him with the rest of the knights bringing up the rear.

“I don’t understand this,” muttered Hatash.

“What do you not understand?” asked the stranger.

“All of it! Why is everything so different?”

They walked on in silence for a moment before Sebharan spoke again.

“You did not tell me about your grandfather.”

Hatash frowned. “Why would I tell you anything when you always refuse to answer my questions?”

“That is fair.”

They fell quiet again.

But now that the stranger had brought up the topic, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. It was irritating.

“I never really knew him,” he said after a moment. “I mean, I did and I didn’t. All at the same time. I saw things, heard things, but only really understood when I was older. He was not a good person. My father feared him...” He paused. “Everyone did. He found pleasure in making others squirm. You know the irony of it all? He was a healer.” Hatash laughed a nervous laugh. “A healer! What a joke. A torturer would have been more fitting.”

He fell quiet again, not caring to say more.

Though the memories were there. Most of them of stories he’d heard.

The time his grandfather had locked up his son—Hatash’s father—in a cellar crawling with bugs. In the dark. Without food for twenty-four hours. Just because Hathor had had the gall to refuse to run an errand that could have killed him.

Or that other time when his grandfather had whipped a ten year-old boy for stealing some candies.

He was also known to have let a few of his patients die. Some suspected he had made them suffer more than they should have when he’d noticed he couldn’t save them. Perhaps he hadn’t tried so hard either.

And then there were Hatash’s personal experiences. He mostly remembered doing his best to stay away from his grandfather. Or not to talk when he was in his presence. Talk led to discontent. And discontent led to punishment.

He shook his head and grunted.

No, he didn’t want to think about any of that.

His grandfather was long dead, and the world was better for it.

Shouts suddenly rose from the knights behind them.

Hatash turned and saw another cloud of dust approaching fast. It was a much bigger one, too, than when the knights had come at them.

Soon they saw what it was.

An army of trolls was rushing toward them.