Isaac wiped the sweat from his forehead as the beating sun did a little jig on his neck and shoulders.

  To their right, nothing but untouched rolling grass valleys and the occasional lone tree. To their left, dense forest with pine trees so thick that only patches of light greeted the dimly lit forest floor. Ahead, mountains. A collection of mountains so vast—so awe-inspiring, that it boggled the mind. Each mountain dwarfed Mount Everest, like a kid brother taking pictures with his older siblings. During his travels on Earth, Isaac had seen mountain ranges from the Andes to the Alps. Each one stunning in its own right. Each one with something to offer.

  But this...this—what he was seeing made little sense.

  How could so many mountains all reside in one place? Each one with their own personality. Their own feeling. Even from this distance he could sense a foreboding from them. A faint trace of Aura that emanated danger.

  “What’s the fastest way to where we need to get to?” he asked Redd.

  The beastkin fox gave him a noncommittal shrug as he tipped his fedora and took in the view. “From the instructions left to you,” he nodded at Francisco, “by Svarog The Blacksmith and what the Iron Dragon has said to you, Isaac, we’ll be needing to get to the centre.”

  “The centre?” asked Felicity.

  Redd nodded. “Among the mountain range, somewhere halfway up, there is a place called Base Camp. Nested like a pup against a mother’s tit, that is where we are most likely to find the people we are looking for.”

  “Who rules the domain?” asked Isaac.

  “They are called The Elders. Their word is law. Although they are not rulers in the typical sense, they guide and protect the settlement from outside interests and forces. They keep the peace among the people who call Base Camp home. But above all else, you need to remember that Base Camp is a safe haven for outlaws, misfits, and people looking to escape and they will do anything to protect that.”

  “Escape what?” said Felicity.

  “Life itself, sweetheart. The Elders welcome the condemned and the hopeless. The fuckers who people shy away from. Not much is known about it, as few have the balls or the strength to reach it.”

  “Sooo,” said Francisco, “the info you have about the place could be absolute horseshit.”

  “I’m just telling you what I know, dickhead.”

  The big man snorted. “Wives' tales and fairy tales, probably some bullshit you heard from some rat.”

  Redd’s head snapped Francisco’s way. “And what’s wrong with rats?”

  Francisco gave an innocent look. “Not the most trustworthy of creatures are they? I’d put them slightly above foxes in--“

  “You overgrown dickless cockwomble. You’ve been on The Other Side two minutes and you think you know better than me? Well, next time you need some help mate, you can fuck right off. Twat.”

  “Hey—hey—hey,” said Francisco, holding up his hands. “There’s no need for all that. I was just saying--“

  “You’ve said enough,” said Felicity. “Let’s cover some more miles before sunset hits.”

  “There is a reason, there is a saying as sly as a fo--”

  “Let’s av it then you cun--”

  “I said enough! You two are like a bunch of children.”

  “He started it love.”

  “I was just illustrating a point.”

  Isaac tuned the bricking out as he set his sights for the horizon and increased the pace.

  *******

  They came to a stop on top of a ridgeline that overlooked a shallow valley below.

  Isaac took in the tattered houses, thatched roofs, and clothes that had seen better days hanging on washing lines and felt some sense of pity for the people who lived there. He knew it was wrong. Felt ashamed for thinking it. But that still did not change the fact that he did.

  They were still a good mile away, but since advancing to Earl his eyesight had improved, allowing him to see at a greater distance. Smoke rose from chimneys, indicating that people still lived in the dwellings but he saw no one about.

  “I thought no one lived in this region?” he asked Redd.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The beastkin shrugged. “This is the final boundary until we get into the Bleeding Peaks proper. These poor fuckers, for one reason or another, have made their home here.”

  “How far is the Bleeding Peaks territory from here?” asked Flic, as she sighted down her bow and took in the area.

  “Between fifty to a hundred miles,” asked Redd.

  Francisco rolled his eyes. “What is it? Thirty or Fifty?”

  Redd slowly turned his attention Francisco’s way, pinning his soul to the wall before looking away. “There is no official boundary line for the Bleeding Peaks. Unlike other domains where territories are outlined with borders and the like, the Bleeding Peaks just is. It is a thing upon itself. Almost a living being.”

  Isaac frowned. “I understand all that, but how does one know when you are in the Bleeding Peaks?”

  Redd stared all of them in the eye, and this time, there was nothing but seriousness with a touch of fear. “You’ll know. We’ll all know. Trust me on that, mate.”

  *******

  Francisco walked behind Isaac and Redd as they approached the village they had seen on the ridge. Flic was scouting for danger amongst the shadows on the outskirts, keeping hidden. Francisco doubted the group had much to worry about, but a settlement being this close to the Bleeding Peaks gave him pause.

  The smell of roasting meat danced on the air as figures hidden in the shadows of window frames peered out at them. The closer they got, the more Francisco could feel the gazes. They were not frightening, just…the intensity reminded him of being watched by prisoners behind bars.

  The collection of homes formed a half-moon shape that spread out from the central courtyard and went far back, until the homes at the rear backed up against the rock face of the valley. The only entrance to the village was the path they were walking on or a dirt path that veered off to the right into the mountains. A twelve-foot double-door gate, covered with metal spikes and featuring runes crafted into the wood, barricaded the path that led into the mountains.

  Even from where Francisco stood, he could feel the strong pulse of power the gates held.

  Nothing short of an Archduke would break down those gates. “Why do they protect their rear and not their front?” he asked.

  “Because, mate,” said Redd, plucking a long stem of grass and placing it in his mouth. “The real danger is coming from the rear.”

  About to make a joke, Francisco shook his head. “I understand that, but still, every village—town—domain we have been to defends the entrance to their home. Not doing so, especially so close to danger, just seems stupid.”

  “No doubt they have a reason for doing so,” said Isaac.

  “I can’t think what it would...” He trailed off as men emerged from homes, holding well-used axes and swords. They came in twos and threes as roof hatches opened up and others got on top of homes, bows targeted and drawn.

  “Well,” said Redd, slowing down with Isaac, “isn’t this a warm welcome. The fuckers have rolled out the red carpet.”

  “Halt!” said a commanding rough voice, as a man just as tall as Francisco parted the crowd. Beer belly bursting his stained white top, with a long dark beard with streaks of grey hairs in it, he strode towards them with an axe resting on his shoulder. Spots of red coated the blade. “What business do you have here?”

  Isaac came to a stop and held his empty hands out to the side. “Hello friends--”

  “Let’s hold off on the pleasantries until I know what you want.”

  Isaac gave the leader a smile. “Understandable. But we have done you no wrong, so I fail to see why the hostile greeting.”

  “When you live so close to the Bleeding Peaking, every meeting is hostile. Don’t take it personally. But, like I asked earlier. What. Do. You. Want?”

  “Just passage. We are looking to make our way to Base Camp.” Shared looks of concern were passed amongst the group, as more faces appeared out of doors and windows. “If we can buy some provisions to restock our supplies, that would be welcome. If not, then no hard feelings.”

  “Jacob,” said the leader, jerking a thumb in his direction.

  “Isaac,” said Isaac, doing the same. “That’s Redd and Francisco.” They both raised a hand in greeting.

  Jacob looked back behind him and made eye contact with a raven-haired woman with a strong nose. A look passed between them before Jacob turned back to them. “You can come into the village to buy what you want, but your weapons stay with us.”

  Redd snorted. “Pull the other one mate.”

  “That is our terms.”

  “And your terms can suck a meaty one. Isaac, this lot are more trouble than they are worth. Let’s take our coin and move on.”

  “There is nowhere else to get supplies once you leave here,” said the raven-haired woman.

  “Then we shall go without,” said Redd. “But if you think for one second we are going in there unarmed, then you have another thing coming.”

  “It is for our own protection. You do not understand what we have been through—what we have had to endure.”

  “Trust me, sister, I get it but...”

  Francisco zoned out as he saw a statue in the courtyard. It looked familiar. Bodies in front of him made it hard to get a clear picture, but he could have sworn….his feet moved him forward. The statue got clearer the closer he got. He felt his shoulders bump people out of the way, but the feeling felt distant, like being touched while dreaming. Shouts now followed his path, but he paid little attention. The statue grew in size until he was in front of it.

  He looked into a face he knew—a face he hated—a face the universe despised and felt the world around him wash away.

  Weathered by the elements, a bronze figure stood in a heroic pose, axe held overhead, long hair flowing behind him, handsome features smiling into the distance. His eyes travelled down and he took in the plaque at the thing’s feet.

  Rafael Rico. Hero—saviour—friend.

  “Who made this?” The words were out of his mouth like the fire spewed from a dragon. No one responded. Or he did not hear. “Who. Made. This?” Still, no one answered.

  The darkness crawled up his spine and tingled his hands. It felt warm. Comforting. His version darkened, as a voice he only knew from the darkness of his spiritual cave whispered behind his ear. “Destroy. They offend you. Destroy. They flaunt his failure for all to see. Destroy. They worship him when he never worshipped you. Destroy. He left her to die! DESTROY!”

  Shouts. Of anger. Of concern. Of fear.

  He felt something grab his shoulder with an iron grip, forcing him to come to. In front of him was Isaac, staring him dead in the eye. Around them was a collection of men and women with weapons raised and pointed in their direction. A tense silence swept through the crowd.

  Isaac was the first to speak. “We good?”

  Francisco noted that Isaac’s free hand held his katana. Francisco’s eyes travelled back to Isaac’s, and the question was so multi-layered that it felt like a maths equation. If push came to shove, would Isaac…

  “Ye—yeah,” he finally said with a nod. “I’m good.”

  “You care explaining to me,” said the raven-haired woman, “what that was about?”

  Francisco’s eye travelled back to the statue. “My name is Francisco Rico.”

  “Ahhh,” she said, “that explains a lot. Then I guess you'd better come in; we have lots to discuss.”