The land was barren and dead. The ground was hard and dry. Only leafless trunks remained of what once were trees. The three followed the shaman to a village as desolate as the rest of the  wasteland. Wagons were broken and empty, buildings were crumbling, and the few dying fires billowed smoke into the air. 

At first, the village was vacant to match the deadness of it. Gradually, people began to emerge from their houses and surround the travelers, talking quickly in their native tongue. Most of the women pointed at Short Round. They seemed to be crying, thought their eyes refused to spare precious water. After a moment, Indiana realized why: there were no children in the village. Frightened by the attention, Short Round drew closer to Indy. Indiana pulled his hand out of his pocket to grip Short Round's. Although Short Round was his bodyguard, Indy instinctively looked out for his friends in return. The signs making him uneasy for the boy's safety. 

As the crowd grew thick around the adults, Short Round managed to slip away. He watched on, shuddering from claustrophobia. Then a woman gently pulled him closer with affection, jabbering in a language unknown to him. Uncomfortable, Short Round pushed away with polite responses in his own language, which she in turn did not understand.

They were escorted to a small stone hut. Once inside, Indy removed his fedora. Short Round mimicked him with his baseball cap. Recognizing that the kid was still unnerved by the strange attention and lack of peers, Indy placed his trademark hat on the boy's head with an amused smile. His poke at fun made Shorty grin and relax some.

They sat crosslegged on the floor before the shaman and the Chieftain. Three women brought them wooden plates. 

  "I hope this means dinner. God, I'm starving," Willie muttered. 

  "Estuday. Thank you," the archeologist thanked them politely. Upon taking the dish, Indiana discovered that the food consisted of a small pile of yellow rice and some gray gruel. He had no issue with it. Neither did Short Round, who had dumpster dived for his meals on occasion. 

  Willie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I can't eat this."

  "That's more food than these people eat in a week. They're starving," Indy chided. 

  Abashed, she tried handing it back. "Oh, I'm sorry. You can have–"

  "Eat it."

  "I'm not hungry."

  Indy released an embarrassed cough. "You're insulting them, and you're embarrassing me. Eat it."

  "Eat it," Short Round echoed. 

Feeling the pressure, Willie shoveled some gruel into her hand and shoved it into her mouth. 

  The Chinese boy sensed the heaviness in the room as he whispered, "Indy, bad news coming."

  Indiana ignored him. "Can you provide us with a guide to take us to Delhi? I'm a professor and I need to get back to my university."

  The chieftain nodded. "Sanju will guide you."

  "Estuday. Thank you."

  Then the shaman spoke up. "On the way to Delhi, you will stop at Pankot."

  Puzzled, Jones replied, "Pankot is not on the way to Delhi."

  "You will go to Pankot Palace," insisted the shaman.

  "I thought the palace had been deserted since... the Mutiny of 1857?"

  "No. Now there is a new Maharajah and again the palace has the power of the dark light." His tone turned dark. "It is that place that kill my people."

  "What has happened here?"

  "The evil start in Pankot... then like monsoon... it moves darkness... over all country... over all country."

  Indiana leaned forward. "The evil? What evil?" 

  Short Round didn't like this conversation one bit. He poked his friend's arm. "See? Bad news. You listen to Wan Li, you live longer."

Indy shushed him as he grew more interested in the topic. 

  "They came from palace... and took Sivalinga... from our village."

  "They took what?" asked Willie. 

  "It's a stone," Indy explained. "A sacred stone from the shrine that protects the village."

  "It is why Siva brought you here," the shaman laughed.

  Indiana tried to set him straight. "We weren't brought here. Our plane crashed."

  "It crashed," Willie chimed in needlessly. 

  The shaman shook his head insistingly. "No, no. We prayed to Siva to help us find the stone. It was Siva who made you fall from the sky. So you will go to Pankot palace to find Sivilinga and bring back to us."

As the shaman spoke, Indy unconsciously folded his hands together in deep thought. Short Round noticed and mimicked him.

Once they stepped outside to follow the shaman and chieftain, Indiana Jones placed his hat back on his own head, then Short Round slapped the baseball cap back to its original place. He carried Indy's whip for him around his shoulder. 

  "Dr. Jones, did they make the plane crash to get you here?" he inquired.

  Indiana forced his trademark smirk to reassure him. " No, Shorty, it's just a ghost story. Don't worry about it."

The villagers led them to a giant rock in the center of the town. Cut into the shrine was a tiny, shallow alcove where the sacred stone would have been showcased. 

  "They took the stone from here," the chieftain explained. 

  "Was the stone very smooth like a rock from a sacred river?" asked Indy.

  "Yes."

  "With three lines across it representing the three levels of the universe."

  "That's right."

  The image began to form in his mind. "Yes. I've seen stones like the one you lost. But why would maharaja take the sacred stone from here?"

  "They says we must pray to their evil god. We says we will not." Passion burned in his eyes. 

As the shaman spoke, Short Round climbed the shrine to examine the nook. Noticing, Indy tugged on the back of his coat, silently signaling him to get down. 

  Willie stepped forward. "Excuse me, I don't understand how one rock could destroy a whole village."

Tiring his limited English, the shaman resorted to explaining in his native tongue. 

  "He's saying when the sacred stone was taken, the village wells dried up, and the river turned to sand," the professor translated the Hindi. Then he asked, "Idorayak?" Meaning: "Drought?"

  "Na!" denied the shaman before continuing.

  "The crops were swallowed by the earth, and the animals laid down and turned to dust. Then one night there was a fire in the fields. The men went out to fight the fire. When they came back, the women were crying in the darkness."

The women continued their tearless sobs at the memory. The next words leaving the shaman's mouth made Indy's blood run cold. 

  "Lamai?" he repeated softly. He glanced at Short Round, now fully understanding the villagers' sorrow and attention towards him. "Children. He says they stole their children."

Short Round shuddered at the thought and moved closer to Indy. 

Night fell quickly. Accompanying the darkness were the worries of the women as they remembered how their children were stolen. They fussed with the only child remaining in their village, which frightened Short Round rather than comforted. 

Thankfully, Indiana Jones rescued him. As he pulled his young friend out of his personal protection squad, he smiled and thanked the women, assuring them that he will personally watch over the child. 

  "I take care of myself," Shorty pouted after his friend explained the village's intentions. "I protect you, too." 

  He patted the boy's shoulder. "I know you can, kid. They're just worried."

Indy was restless. He stood outside the hut he and Short Round were sharing. It may have been luck or fate that he did so to catch the lost son returned home when he collapsed. The Indian boy was beaten, bruised, and thin to his bones. Aside from the broken chain around his ankle, the child weighed next to nothing. 

  His voice was wispy and Indy had to bring his ear close to make out the word. "Sankara! Sankara..." A shaking hand passed a scrap of cloth into Indy's. 

A woman weeping with relief collected her son from his arms and carried him away. The commotion awakened Short Round, who stuck his head through the opening.

  "Indy?"

  The archeologist paused in his study of the cloth long enough to point into the distance. "See that tree?" It was more of a spiny twig in the ground than a tree, but Shorty nodded. "Gather what information you can and meet me there, okay?"

From the height and distance of the spot he had chosen, Indy could see the village glowing in the firelight. The space and loneliness gave the man a chance to dwell on the choices laid out before him. He studied the drawing on the cloth; a new adventure calling his name. 

About twenty minutes later, Indiana Jones' quiet thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a breathless Short Round. He braced his hands upon his knees to catch his breath after the climb.

  "Little boy escaped from the evil palace. Many other children still there," he reported between inhales. "What we do, Dr. Jones?" 

Indiana didn't speak immediately. As he rose to his feet, Short Round straightened with him. He attempted to study his expression in the darkness, but he could only make out a thoughtful expression of a man almost finished making up his mind. Then Indy pointed to the boy's chest. When Short Round glanced down, Indy dragged his finger up and playfully tapped the kid's nose, making him smile. A shooting star streaked against the night sky. 

  "What you think?"

  "I think that somebody believes the good luck rock from this village is one of the lost Sankara stones."

  "What is Sankara?"

  "Fortune and glory, kid. Fortune and glory."