Marcus

The tavern's lone fireplace was the most popular spot in the hall, a mass of bodies huddled around the hearth, quietly eating their breakfast and drank their cup of ale. The fire had been roiling for quite some time, warming the entire room like it was the familiar heat of a California summer, the memory now in a distant past, which made quite a difference when Marcus stepped outside to avoid the crowd. The cold snapped into his skin, tightening their grip, made him drew his cloak closer around his body.

He let out a slight chuckle. It was funny to think that the clothes he so despised since wearing it offered the most comfort out of this dreadful hell. He guessed he had Andy to thank for his expensively whimsical and geeky hobby.

Right before he left out the door, he unstrapped the scabbard of his broadsword and placed the blade against the wall. He did the same for his belt, dropping it on top of an empty table. He stretched out, feeling like a bird taking its first flight like he could float out into the sky. The damn things were fucking heavy to carry for almost three days. He didn't let go of his shotgun, however, kept it slung around his shoulders as he strode toward the well at the center of the main square.

Next to the well was a lone stone bench half-covered with snow, and sitting on it was Brett, sketching the skeleton in front of him.

"Your breakfast is getting cold," Marcus said, breaking the silence. "Roylan already fixed you a plate."

Brett grumbled something unintelligible.

"You are not going to eat?" Marcus asked again.

"Not hungry. I ate what's left of my beef jerky before we left," he said. He fished out his empty Jack Link's Premium Chicago Smoke flavor bag out of his pocket. He put it back inside. "Besides, I don't like fish or seafood for that matter. I do love calamari. That's the only thing I can tolerate." He paused, a frown forming. "I doubt I would ever have calamari again."

Marcus chuckled. "Well, since the river's right there, we'll be eating fish for a long while."

Brett peered his eyes away from his notebook and looked at him. "Are you saying we're staying here for a while?" There was a hopeful ring in his tone.

Marcus shrugged. "It seems like a good place as any to make camp for a few days."

"Its more than good. It beats sleeping on the forest floor again. I hate rocks and twigs sticking underneath my sleeping bag, which made me feel like I wasn't sleeping much, and it doesn't help that I'm a light sleeper. At least here, there are mattresses, and if we fixed that palisade, we have walls to protect us."

"It depends on the group's vote."

"Oh, they most definitely will vote to stay here. This place is like a lottery ticket. The land still looks very arable, good for maybe some wheat and barley, and some of the houses remained intact. I already picked out the house I want to live in."

"Whoa. Don't get ahead of yourself. This is only temporary."

"I know, but you gotta think about it long-term. Yes, there are some major renovations to do here and there, but in a year or two, this village will become habitable and self-sustaining once again. This will be home."

Home, Marcus rolled the word on his tongue. It didn't make any sense. Home was 645 Arthur Street, next to a Vietnamese bakery and Martram's vegan coffee shop—the latter he hated the most. Home was San Francisco. Home was Earth. Home was Claire and their children, laughing on the couch with pieces of popcorn everywhere as they watched Netflix every Sunday night.

We will never see our world again, echoed Arjun's words.

Marcus hoped he was wrong.

This wasn't home. This was hell.

"After we find Jacob, we'll find a way out of here, back to our real home."

"And if you want to do that, then you should have a home base. It seems to me like we just found ours. After all, it is the logical next step in this game."

"For the last time, Brett, this isn't a fucking game."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look around you, dude. This looks like we stepped into Medieval Times. Cliche, of course. A lot of RPG fantasy games based their world on Medieval Europe. Blame Lord of the Rings on that one. And it seems we're in one right now. Castle. Village. Spooky Forest. Imposing Mountain. What's next? The possibilities for adventure are endless! If I design this game, then I say we're gonna meet the kingdom that controls these lands, and quite possibly, the same assholes who took Jacob."

"I admire your enthusiasm in our situation…"

"Why, thank you."

A beat.

"I was being sarcastic. I don't like calling this a fucking adventure when our lives are at stake, Brett."

"And now we have the upper hand. Don't you see it? This village will support us in the long run. The main characters in many RPG games—or fantasy stories—always have a place they can call home. Kaer Morhen. Hogwarts. Winterfell. Camelot. Normandy. Maybe this is ours. I'll call it…Wardcastle. After you, boss."

"Uh, we're not calling it that, nor are we going to name anything."

"And why not? You're our leader, and it has a nice ring to it."

"No one voted me to be the leader."

"It's because we don't have to. You seriously haven't noticed? You are the only one who has a Class called The Commander. That's already a bit tongue-in-cheek, don't you think?"

Marcus never thought about that. He didn't go around asking everyone what they saw every time they closed their eyes, unlike Brett. He had other pressing matters to attend to. He'd like to ignore those prompts as far as possible, an in-your-face reminder of where he indeed was—in hell.

"Brett. You might be in some bizarre headspace right now, and I don't know if you're still coming down from shock, or this is how you deal with the situation, but I respect you enough to be in that mindset. So, we're not naming this place anything."

"Fine. Suit yourself. Would you rather call this place fucking Boonetown after my dad? His ego's big enough as it is."

"I doubt we have that kind of resources to fix all of these up in two years anyway."

"You are a soldier, Marcus. Standing on a ledge, you know pretty damn well what humans can do when push comes to shove," Brett said, smiling. "And we're beyond that fucking ledge already, don't you think?"

He got them there. Marcus grinned, nodding, patted Brett on the shoulder, and wished him good luck on his sketches.

Marcus chuckled. "Mr. Potty Mouth got some spice, I see."

"You're one to talk."

Hyun, Kenny, and Roylan stepped out of the tavern and approached him. Roylan looked past him and glared at Brett.

"Boy, I told you to eat that plate I put down there," Roylan barked. "Show some respect for Mr. Foster here. He made you a damn good breakfast!"

"But I'm not hungry," Brett mumbled, but it was loud enough for his father to hear.

"I don't care if you are not hungry. Do you know many of us are out there in the woods, probably starving to death right now? They'll appreciate some luck like we have. Think about that, and be thankful we are lucky enough to have food and shelter."

Marcus gently put his hand on Roylan's shoulder. "Roylan, If he's not hungry…"

"Marcus, its fine," Brett said, "I'll …eat the fish." He stomped past them and went inside the building; his head held high.

Marcus stared at Roylan curiously, cocking his head to the side.

"Boy needs some tough love," Roylan grumbled, made a shrug. "Too soft. Not like Paul. How I wish my wife didn't pamper him too much when he was young."

I wish I've done the same thing to Jacob, Marcus thought, but he didn't say it out loud. He turned his attention to Hyun and Kenny. "Ready to show me the camp?"

Hyun and Kenny shared a wary look.

"What is it?" Marcus asked.

"It'll take two days," Hyun said, lips pressed together.

"Two days?"

"At least."

"Isn't their last camp up there in the castle?"

"Yes, but they went into the woods after they camped here," he said. "I followed them east, where I stumbled upon another one of their camps. But I had to go back because—I shit you not—I heard the same noises Kenny and I heard that one night, and didn't really want to go at it solo. I should wait for you all instead just to be safe. Sorry, Marcus."

"You made the right call. Its good to be cautious," Marcus reassured him, though feeling a little disappointed that Hyun didn't press on. He might stumble upon Jacob next if he continued. "I don't want to lose another man in the woods."

Behind Hyun and Kenny, several feet away, Brett leaned against the door frame, eating his meal. He mouthed leader to Marcus, and laughed, walking back into the comforts of the hall.

Marcus ignored him and regarded his attention back to Hyun. He realized everyone was waiting for him to speak like he had left them hanging.

Marcus cleared his throat. "Um, can you still show us the way?" He asked Hyun.

"I marked up the trail"—he looked up the sky, nodding sternly—"If we go now, we might be able to reach it with enough daylight to spare."

"Show me to the castle first. I want to check it out in case we miss anything. Then, we'll head east. You did say there were fresh bodies up there, right?"

Hyun bit his lower lip. "It is something alright."

"I still want to see it."

* * *

 The pathway leading to the castle was at the northern end of the village right at the bottom of the cliff. The trail was carved through the rock, snaking at least a hundred feet upward, wide enough to have three men abreast, also spanning above the river. The entrance to the path was once heavily barricaded. Enclosing the entrance stood a second palisade where guard towers two-stories high stood at each end of the wide-open gate. Upturned carts and skeletons were scattered around the opening.

Inside the second wall, there was a building a little larger than the other houses in the village, which made Marcus realize it must be some barracks. He peeked inside and saw a slew of cots, hammocks, and bunks blanketed by cobwebs and dust, along with rows of rusted pikes and spears against the wall. Helmets, armors, and chainmail were worn by the skeletal bodies crowded at the far wall—signs of a grim last stand.

Marcus frowned. Whatever horrors they faced, it was a shitty way to go.

"Are you sure the path is safe?" Roylan asked Kenny.

"It is. Just don't look over the edge," he grinned mischievously.

Kenny led the group up the trail with Marcus following close behind. Hyun stayed behind in the village to prepare everyone's supplies for another two-day hike. Blake wasn't happy that he had to leave again, and Marcus had a sneaking suspicion that the man blamed him for taking Hyun away. He wanted to talk to the man, to reassure him that he would keep Hyun safe, but Hyun objected, wanting to do it himself.

"Blake is a stubborn man. I know how to handle him. It takes one to know one, you know," Hyun said, shaking his head. "Besides, Kenny will show you the way. He has been up there before."

"Let Blake know that I am sorry, Hyun."

"Don't be. I volunteered, remember? We're going to find Jacob. If it was Willie who was missing, I know you will do the same."

Marcus smiled and let it go. "Thank you."

He fiddled with the pommel of his broadsword, grinding right up to his shoulder, regretting already on bringing it along. He could tell that Connor and Eli were beyond excited that he allowed them to go, and he was starting to regret that decision, too. Because his kids went with him, Paul didn't have any reason not to let his two sons—Noah and Asher—to come along, too. Paul also gave them the rule that if there was any trouble, they had to stay behind with Easton, and the latter wasn't thrilled with the idea of babysitting a bunch of kids. Marcus gave him a pitiful look, promised he'll make it up to him.

There was no barrier at the ledge, and Marcus made the mistake of looking down onto the icy river below. If they were going to make this village somewhat livable, he noted they might have to put up a railing. Imagining one of the children falling off of it sent shivers down his spine. Within a couple of minutes, they made it to the top of the hill.

At the top, the path split into two: One led to the castle, ending onto a drawbridge already lowered over a shallow moat, and the other way led to an enormous ruin heading east of the castle. Marcus was surprised to see the latter as he couldn't make it out from below. The ruins consisted of a ring of standing stones ten feet high, which had a distinct resemblance to the famous Stonehenge, albeit this one had vine roofs, scaffolds, half-torn towers, and a wide gaping hole in the middle of the circle—the entrance to some underground chamber. Marcus left it alone for now as they turned toward the castle. He made a mental note to ask Andy what that could be.

The castle was a lot larger than Marcus expected, looking smaller when observed from below, casting a large shadow over the village as the sun rose. The drawbridge was still sturdy, although some of its sections needed replacing. The moat surrounding the castle was twenty feet wide and ten feet deep, filled with wooden spikes and stakes, not a place Marcus wanted to end up in. The walls rose forty feet high, and its two towers were twice as tall. There were a few smaller towers on each corner of the walls, but they weren't as tall as the main two. Although, that was as far as he could take his knowledge of castles went. The entrance's portcullis was reinforced with wood and iron, but it had fallen off and split into two as if something big had smashed its way in. Marcus immediately thought of the giants that attacked the city.

Could the Giants have attacked the castle? Marcus thought. It certainly seemed like it.

They entered the castle through what Andy called a Barbican—supposedly an overhead gatehouse, and stepped foot inside a massive courtyard, which was about half the size of a football field, shaped like a pentagon. Scattered around the yard were dozens of skeletons — three times as many as the ones from the village below.

Suddenly, Marcus wasn't sure if the giants killed these people. If they did, the bones should be broken and shattered, like someone had stomped, pulverized, and bludgeoned them to death. But they remained intact. Not a piece of bone seemed out of place.

It was as if they died where they stood (or sat) like they had fallen asleep.

Or good old fucking fear, Marcus thought. He had heard that could happen, but he had never seen it firsthand. He shuddered at the thought.

Close to the gate's portcullis was the stables, which looked like it could fit more than two dozen horses—if there were ever any horses in these lands. Though, it was hard to imagine what the stables were used for aside from storing horses. Three more buildings stood along the walls, which seemed to be an extension of it. Andy believed them to be either another barracks, an armory, or the servants' quarters.

"This is what's called the inner bailey," Andy said, sounding like he had slipped into his professor tone, and began to describe every nook and cranny of the castle.

Marcus strode to the opposite side of the barbican where another portcullis—intact this time—blocked their way to the next section of the castle. Beyond it was another, much bigger structure, enclosed by a wall with its drawbridge halfway open, and another moat filled with pikes and stakes waiting below it. Through the gaps of the portcullis was another courtyard, also filled with skeletal remains.

"And that is probably where the main castle is. The Keep," Andy pointed out.

"Well, it seems like we can't get there from here," Marcus said disappointedly.

Andy was disappointed too, sighing heavily. "There must be another way in. Have you tried checking?"

"We tried to find another entrance for days," said Kenny. "But we can't even find a hole to crawl into."

"Have you tried the walls?" Marcus asked, pointing at the wall's walkway.

Kenny shook his head. "No good. Those smaller towers block the walkways. Their doors don't open either."

"Oh, that's a shame," Andy muttered.

Marcus proceeded to tell everyone to search the grounds for clues. They all fanned out except Kenny, trying the doors, but they were barred shut from the inside. All the windows were situated on the second floor, but even if they raised someone to open it, the iron shutters remained closed. Roylan also tried to ram his weight on one of the doors, but it didn't budge.

It's just a stupid wooden door, Marcus thought. How hard could it be?

After the joint weight of him, Roylan, and Kenny…pretty fucking hard.

"As I said, we can't get in," Kenny said, sounding like a man who had given up for a year.

"Well, let's continue looking for any clues. Maybe Jacob left something. You did find that knife here," Roylan said. Everyone resumed their search around the courtyard.

Marcus turned to Kenny. "Show me where the bodies are," he said.

* * * 

Kenny led Marcus toward one of the tall towers next to the barbican, hanging above the portcullis.

"This is the only part of the yard with its door open," Kenny said. He grabbed the handle—a thin circular knob with a giant hole in the middle and pulled it open. A musky scent of dust and mildew wafted out of the entrance, invading their nostrils. Marcus wrinkled his nose, choosing to breathe through his mouth instead.

"I gotta warn you. They're nasty looking buggers," Kenny said, taking a long look at Connor and Eli behind him.

"I'm not scared of no boogers," Eli quipped, puffing up his chest.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, kid," Kenny replied, hiding a smile as he trudged up the steps.

The stairs curled upward toward the gatehouse over the portcullis, and there weren't any doors blocking the way, just an arch that led to an open poorly-lit room filled with crates, shelves, and mounts for rusted pikes, lances, and axes. Kenny pointed to another set of stairs that led to the top of the tower. They entered the barbican. It was a rather large room, similar to the size of the hall in the tavern. Still, this one was made out of stone instead of wood, carved on its walls were narrow slit windows that Easton described were for archers observing both the drawbridge and the courtyard, respectively. In the middle of the room was a gaping hole big enough to drop an elephant through, leading down to the courtyard's entrance, but a giant cauldron was hanging over the hole, which was covered and filled with black viscous muck. Marcus lightly touched the cauldron, brought his finger close to his nose, and smelled it—the muck was made of pitch and tar. On the far side of the room was a fire pit for the cauldron, an iron grating covering most of the coals and wood on its shallow cavity.

It wasn't hard to spot the four alien dead bodies lying on the floor.

Marcus forced himself onward. His heart was hammering. His palms were sweaty. He was filled with both wonder and apprehension, with both wild curiosity and fear of the unknown, simultaneously awestricken and bewildered. He wanted to laugh because he had never seen anything so similar to a human ever since he ended up in this world. He felt like someone was fucking playing with them, some higher power sending the bloodied remains before him to intrigue them.

The four bodies were as big as an average human, albeit a little shorter than Marcus. Granted, he was one of the taller men in the group, so that wasn't saying much.

"Hyun and I left them as we found 'em," Kenny said. His eyes suddenly budged out, glancing at the two kids.

Eli quickly covered his ears, but Connor made no move, drawing closer to the bodies. Marcus shot his arms out and held him back.

"Not so fast. You stay behind me."

"But—"

"No buts. You know our deal."

Connor rolled his eyes but didn't say another word. He made a small nod and took a step back next to Eli and Easton.

Marcus approached the bodies. It had a green skin—no, an exoskeleton—wrapping its shape. Still, at a closer look, they reminded him of the outer shell of a lobster or some crustacean, though these bodies didn't have any pinchers—six fingers attached around pale fleshy hands instead. They were more slender than an average man, their torso much taller than their legs, and it seemed they could walk upright.

"Its an armor," Kenny said. He tapped on the shell with his knuckles, making a sound like knocking on a block of hollow wood.

Getting closer, Marcus could see it. Its real skin was pale and fleshy compared to its armor. A bulky shell-like helmet covered their faces.

Only one of the four bodies had their helmet off. Kenny crouched down on the helmet-less creature, turned it over. Marcus first saw two pairs of big oval-shaped eyes on top of the other, filled with white-glaze staring back at him, no evidence of irises or pupils. Its lower jaw was ripped open, half of its gaunt cheeks missing, revealing two rows of teeth, one row was razor-sharp hidden behind a row of large, flat teeth. White dry fluids covered its hideous face, which Marcus believed was its blood. Its skin was as white as snow, almost translucent, revealing its entwining veins and blood vessels. Beside them were rust-free swords and daggers compared to the rest of the weapons around the room.

"It looks like their armor is made out of chitin," Easton added in with fascination. He also took a step forward and crouched next to Marcus. He slipped the braces off of one and studied it carefully. "This is incredible. I hear Boston University and Colombia were making these same armor made of chitin and other polymers for alternative body vests. To make armor like this organically without modern science… I'm sorry. This is an inappropriate time to geek out, I know."

"It's okay," Marcus said. "It is quite a remarkable design. But, do they look like the one you saw in the Marina?"

Easton paused, studying closer. He eventually shook his head. "No. These ones have pale skin. The one I saw had more like red leathery scales."

"So, there's two," Kenny muttered. "Two intelligent lifeforms, if we assume that the dragon-rider also has the same red skin."

"Four, if you include us and then whatever these skeletons are if they still exist," Easton corrected.

'They could be these four. With flesh," Kenny said, making a small shrug.

"I don't think so. They don't have the bone structure. Plus, some of the skeletons wore steel armor. Not chitin."

"In any case," Marcus interrupted, "whoever kidnapped Jacob made camp here and then were attacked by these four. Do they remind you of anything?" Marcus asked.

Kenny and Easton studied the bodies while Connor and Eli watched from afar, but after a moment, they shook their heads.

"For me, they looked like soldiers. Makes sense when they're wearing this kind of armor, expecting some firepower." Marcus picked up one of the creature's sword. He ran his fingers over the pommel, realized it was made out of another creature's bone. Marcus let it drop to the ground. "Which tells me that the kidnappers are a lot more dangerous than I reckon. We seemed to be outgunned when it comes to these things."

Kenny barked a laugh. "You just notice? Boy, I thought you would've seen that already back in the city when a freaking dragon swoops down from the sky."

"We didn't see these bodies out there," Connor interjected. "Only skeletons."

Marcus nodded. "Yeah. You're right, son. I don't think these four are from around here either."

Connor tried to hide his smile, but it was clear he was happy to contribute to the conversation. Eli, however, tried not to gawk at the bodies, but it was as if he had witnessed a car crash, and he couldn't look away, trying to be brave at what he was seeing. Marcus glanced at Easton, realized he saw it too and stood up to gently lead Eli out of the room. Connor stayed behind.

Marcus turned his attention back to the dead aliens again. "They must've found the camp and tried to attack them," he said, "and the kidnappers took care of these four, killed them, and then fled east like Hyun said. The only question is, where did they come from?"

"Are we expecting trouble then?" Kenny asked. "From this…"

"The Pale-men," Conner jumped in. "Because they have ashen skin."

Kenny nodded. "Right. These Pale-freaks."

"Seems like it. This village might not be safe than we thought," Marcus replied. "But there's nothing much to say about its defensive potential when we have a gaping hole in the wall."

"So far, they haven't come back. I mean, Hyun is still kicking, and he's been alone here for almost a week. Dude even found a time to build a salmon trap."

"I think I'll bring a small team out east, a squad of four perhaps, and keep everyone back here, manning the walls."

"You mean…in here? In the castle? But—"

"I know the village is more comfortable, but it's not safe. Half of the palisade is gone, but this one has solid walls, and we can bring up that drawbridge so no one can get in when trouble comes. The hill is a perfect vantage point across the fields and to the woods, and nothing sneaks past us if we remained vigilant with our watch duties. This room is big enough to fit all of us, hell, whoever lived here probably used to squeeze a ton of soldiers. There's a fire pit for that cauldron, so we can use that to warm up the room, too."

"Can I come with you?" Connor chipped. 'I want to help."

"No."

"But—"

"No buts," Marcus raised his finger to stop any more protests from Connor. The boy shut his mouth, but it was clear he wasn't happy. Marcus regarded Kenny once again. "I'll take Paul, Roylan, and Hyun with me to the east. You hold down the fort here."

"Me?"

"Are you up for the job?"

"I think I am," Kenny answered, though he was hesitant. "What shall we do with the bodies?"

Marcus spared a glance at the aliens; his eyes flashed a hunger to kick the shit out of them. Could their kind be the ones responsible for transporting them into this world? For separating him from the rest of his family? Could they be connected to the cherry blossom trees in his dreams? If they could make that kind of armor, he thought they were advanced enough to create a portal device to transport an entire fucking city. The mere thought alone made him angry.

If these Pale-men crossed his path, he'd see red.

"Drag these ugly bastards out with the rest and burn them until nothing's left."

* * *

In the two days since they set off, they never entered the forest, which Marcus dreaded the most. Instead, they hiked along the vast open plains east of the village and south of the massive dark woods, following another tributary of the large river.

Most of the plains were already devoid of snow, revealing lush patches of green grass, the ice retreating to the colder parts of the woods, and toward the mountains, and the river had almost thawed completely. With each step they made, they drew closer to the eastern mountains.

"It's huge," Paul exclaimed, looking at the mountain range. "Remind you of anything, pops?"

"The Rockies," Roylan said, making a low whistle. "Would love to hike up that beast like what we did up in Colorado last year."

Hyun paused, mouth gaping. "You hiked through Colorado? I don't believe it."

Roylan beamed a smile. "What? A sixty-year-old man can't do such a thing? Age is all just a numbers game."

Marcus chuckled. "Maybe I'll write you an itinerary on your next vacation here. Call it, Boone Pass."

Their laughter echoed across the plains, and Marcus lit up a smile. He remembered back in Afghanistan that keeping up the morale benefited the rest of his squad even when bombs were dropped close to their hole. He didn't know what they would find ahead of their path, but its fun to share a good laugh. In a few minutes, Marcus was feeling a little bit better and awake even when he slept poorly last night in the cold. They had to pack light, so they brought only one tent with them. Three bodies (the other on watch duties) crammed into one space was very uncomfortable.

With their smiles and laughter welling up into the afternoon, they shared crass jokes and dirty limericks with each other, bigger and more boisterous than the last. Marcus began to see that the other men were trying to outmatch each other with the crudest joke.

"Good news, folks. We're not far off," Hyun announced ahead, their laughter died with it. With his walking stick, he prodded a smooth black river stone in the middle of the path—his markers. He smiled. "We're almost there."

They encountered more dead bodies of the Pale-men—seven of them—along the trail on the second day, where Hyun revealed Jacob's last camp. There, a dozen more dead Pale-men were strewn around the riverbank in various state of decay, some with their heads lopped off, their bodies caved in, and some were burned to death. Along with the slaughtered corpses were the remains of six animals, one of them belonging to a horse.

So, there are horses around here, Marcus noted, though this one was rather enormous and very hairy, its hide pearly white, its mane was charcoal black. It had been sliced into two halves, its organs draped out of its flesh along the grass, some ending up on the shallow waters.

The other five animals looked like giant naked mole rats, though it had lost its pinkish color, its folds still evident, but its two bucked teeth were sharp like talons. Though, each was strapped with two saddles on their backs, signs that they were used for transportation.

There were no signs of a campfire anywhere.

"They didn't make camp," Marcus realized, gears in his head turning as he inspected the grisly scene.

Paul nodded. "You're right. I think they were trying to ambush someone."

"And got slaughtered in return," Marcus said. "Something's not right. The bodies we saw back there looked like they were killed at least a mile or two apart from one another, and they didn't even look like there was a struggle."

"Are you saying they're being chased?"

Marcus nodded. "Probably cut down by whoever rode that horse. Fed up, they decided to ambush them."

"You know what this means, right?" Hyun said somberly. "This means the Pale-men got something the horserider wants, and I can only think of one thing."

"Jacob," Marcus answered, and muttered a curse under his breath.

"During the attack in the castle, the Pale-men must've gotten him and took him east, and Jacob's original kidnappers went after them."

Marcus drew a breath and ran his hands over his hair, wanting to pull them out, wanting to scream. "What could they ever want with a little boy?"

The others lowered their heads, at a loss for answers.

"Well, I see this is a good thing," Paul said confidently.

Marcus shot him a glare. "How can this be a good thing, Paul?" Marcus asked, frustrated.

"It means your son is still alive. For some reason, they don't want him dead."

They studied the muddy riverbank and saw more footprints of a struggle leading off toward the mountains, signs that there were more people involved. Half a mile away, he could make out another dead Pale-man lying on the bank with its head submerged in the water. They walked over toward it, saw more dead bodies ahead, and there, Marcus found another set of hoof prints of another horse and another dead naked mole-rat. He was right. Whoever was on the horse was chasing after the Pale-men, and given that they hadn't seen any of their bodies yet, Marcus assumed they were still alive.

"This is where I stopped," Hyun said. "I heard noises up that tree, so I doubled back to the village. I don't know where we're going after this."

"We'll continue head-on," Marcus said. "The dead will lead the way."

They made camp close to the tree line. They ate some of the food Hyun had packed for them, a bag filled with smoked salmon and leftovers from breakfast. They also brought with them some canned goods and each a couple bottles of water that they refilled with boiled river water.

When the next day came, the better part of the morning was broodingly dark toward the horizon, toward the direction Marcus was heading to, hovering over the white snow-capped mountains like some roiling storm daring him to enter its sphere. Behind him, Hyun, Paul, and Roylan followed close to his trail, keeping an eye for milky-white smears on the grass and another dead Pale-man.

Marcus could have chosen to go back when he saw the dark clouds. He could have found another shelter in some parts of the woods, but he was struck by an irrational determination to forge on forward. This day of all days, he was not going to be deterred or delayed by some dark clouds hanging above the sky because he was too scared it'll rain.

The rain was nothing if he could see his son again. He knew he was getting close. He could feel it.

If it rains, it'll quicken the thaw, Marcus thought. At least, he considered that a win.

They turned onto a much narrower path, getting closer to the forest line, and then breaking through a broad mountain pass winding up the mountainside. The trek barely went on another three hours, and Marcus was about to tell Hyun that they might have gotten lost when he saw it.

A colossal cliff at least three hundred feet high revealed a towering waterfall, white water cascading off the drop below a small lake in a deafening roar. On the treeless spine of a ridge, where the low grass ended, they crouched upon a broad slab of rock and looked down onto the lake.

Beside the lake was a wide rift of impenetrable darkness, as if someone had clawed off the cliff's vertical slope, loose stones littered around its entrance, creating a cavern that wormed deep into the mountains. There, at the mouth of the cave, A dozen living Pale-men stood guard, while another score cleaned up the many dead bodies littered around the rocks and ridges, their skin burned to a crisp, clearly slaughtered by the horseriders. What's more, it seemed like the battle had happened recently, the bodies still looked fresh.

The Pale-men soldiers hauled them in a cart pulled by a living naked mole-rat, which started ambling into the cave.

Seeing it now, Marcus might be chasing after Easton's alien: Red-scales. If anyone could burn a large group to a crisp, it was the creature that summoned the wall of fire in San Francisco.

Suddenly, Marcus realized they were heavily outmatched.

"They looked so human," Marcus said. He thanked the waterfall for drowning out their voices.

"Oh, boy." Paul gulped, visibly shaken, clutching his stomach—adrenaline kicking into his veins. "There's so many of them. I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Should we head back and get the others?" Hyun asked.

Marcus gripped tighter on the hilt of Jacob's dagger strapped on his belt. "He's in there somewhere," Marcus said sternly, staring down at the cave's entrance. "I don't want to wait another week. Who knows what they are doing to him. Think of it in their point-of-view. We're as much as an alien to them as they are to us. They probably haven't seen a human since we got here. They could be experimenting on him as we speak like some fucking lab rat, Area 51 shit."

"Marcus is right," Roylan said. "We can't wait any longer. But we're gonna be fighting a two-front skirmish; The Pale-men and whoever the horseriders are."

"There's going to be more of them down there," Hyun added.

"Doesn't matter. I've faced worse odds, so I'm going in," Marcus said soberly. "I'm not forcing you all to come with me, and you're all free to go back. But I'm staying here, and I'm going to get my son. If you stay, you have to follow my lead if we're going to make it out alive."

He made sure to look everyone in the eye to let them know how serious he was. Paul was hesitant most of all, and Marcus understood why, seeing that he still had to take care of two children—him the only parent they have. Hyun, too, but surprisingly, he was the first one to nod.

"I'm in," Hyun said.

A few seconds later, Roylan grumbled after him, sharing a somber smile with his son, and picked up his rifle. "I'm old, and I don't think I have that many years ahead of me. Oh, well, count me in, too."

Marcus turned to Paul. "I understand if you don't want to go."

"Its okay, son," Roylan reassured him. "We can manage."

"No," Paul shook his head after a beat. "I'm coming with you. Safety in numbers, right? And dad, I'm not leaving your back unguarded."

Marcus let out a beaming smile, patted him the back and thanked him. Roylan, too.

"Alright, soldier. What's the plan?" Roylan asked.

"We're going to sneak ourselves in."

"I love your confidence, but, son, that might be harder to do with them guarding the cave like its Fort-fucking-Knox."

Marcus pointed at the soldiers. "Their armor is big enough to fit the four of us. That's our ticket in. We'll lead some of them away, and then…" Marcus grabbed hold of the pommel of his broadsword, and pulled the blade out, realizing they needed to take them out quietly. He smiled. "…and then, we're going to kill them."

"But how do we know they're the bad guys?" Paul asked. "Between the Pale-men and the Horseriders, who's good and who's bad?"

"Both of them," Marcus said without hesitation. "They still took my son. That puts them in both my fucking shit list."