Snow crunched under their feet while conifers loomed overhead. They followed the road north, though calling it a road was generous - a mere five feet of virgin snow between the trees. De’al struggled to keep up with the older man, he shifted the heavy backpack on his back and picked up his pace. The man - Enloth, didn’t seem bothered by the cold or the deep snow, he wore a light jacket and boots more suitable for spring than the dead of winter.

Enloth stopped up ahead and consulted his map. De’al took the opportunity to catch up, when he did, the youth bent over and put his hands on his knees, panting. He was glad for the brief reprieve but didn’t know how much longer he’d last.

“The first campsite is just up ahead.” Enloth said after a glance at his companion.

“Thank Elar’Saga,” De’al replied, still short of breath.

“It will all be worth it, believe me.”

De’al stared up at the man, who stood above him completely at ease. “I wish we’d have hired a carriage or a mule at the least. When I became an historian I hardly expected to trek through the woods in the dead of winter with pounds of supplies and equipment on my back.”

“Oh? And did you expect to look through time and see the past with your own eyes?” Enloth asked.

“You’re sure the ancient spirit can be controlled -”

“It’s too late for doubts - and yes, I am sure.”

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have hired a pack mule.”

“A pack mule comes with paperwork -”

“Yes yes. Secrecy is paramount, so you keep telling me. Give me a moment to catch my breath.”

Enloth frowned and leaned towards the young man. “I don’t think you quite understand what power we stand to gain here” he said, close enough for De’al to feel the warmth of his breath. Their eyes locked until De’al looked away.

The first campsite was decidedly not ‘just’ up ahead, at least not by De’al’s reckoning. They carried on for an hour before they saw the clearing. When finally there, De’al dropped his pack and half sat, half fell onto a large log. While he rested Enloth had the fire going and suspended a black iron pan over it. He threw in a handful of dried vegetables and leafy spices, then added water. He took out a small pouch and emptied it into the pan - dark powder covered the contents and a sharp spicy aroma filled the air. Not a trace could be found of the man’s earlier intensity.

De’al salivated. “Travel rations never smell this good,” he said.

“Ah yes, one picks up a trick or two in my age - grab a bowl, would you?”

De’al sat upright on his log and presented his bowl to Enloth, who filled it with the saucy vegetables. The younger man stifled a moan as he ate. “This has to be sorcery, it’s the best thing I’ve eaten,” he mumbled.

Enloth chuckled. “There may be a little sorcery in there, nothing you should be overly concerned with.”

De’al paused and stared at the half eaten meal, weighed his options and decided that it was too late to stop. The food revitalized his body and he finally relaxed. He looked out into the distance at the pale mountains above the treeline, their snowy peaks brushed the clouds. The ancient homes of the Masons lie hidden in those mountains, he thought. One day he’d venture there, and he’ll be the one to find the secrets of their stonecraft and bring back their living statues - golems, as some called them. This spirit they were about to see - Enloth’s singing interrupted his thoughts.

“Travel light but carry a pack

You never know when you'll need a good snack!

Fasten your coat, tighten your belt

You'll find on the road the hand you're dealt

Follow the wind and hear its call

And you shan't go wrong on your lengthy stroll”

De’al’s heart lurched and he looked all around them. Not a single branch moved anywhere in sight. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Relax, there’s no one here to report us.”

De’al looked again - all was still and no sound reached his ears. “It’s dangerous, Enloth - even here I wouldn’t -”

“And you didn’t,” Enloth cut in.

“Fine, fine,” De’al relented. After a minute he said “haven’t heard this song before.”

“You haven’t heard a great many things.”

De’al scowled but Enloth just chuckled.

“What are you laughing at?” The young man cried.

“Nothing, here, have a drink.” Enloth handed him a leather-wrapped flask. Upon it was a faded engraving of a bear and wolf, the Ranger’s crest between them.

“What is it?”

“Fireball Tea.” Following De’al’s blank stare Enloth added “an old Ranger’s recipe, it’ll help you stay warm - drink up; we need to get back to the road.”

“You never told me that you are a Ranger.”

“I’m not - drink up.”

De’al took a sip. The liquid fizzed on his tongue and a second later his mouth was on fire. He swallowed and the warmth spread to his throat. The burning faded quickly leaving a pleasant heat and a hint of cloves and cinnamon. The warmth spread throughout his entire body and hung about him. He turned to Enloth and inspected the man’s light clothing once again - De’al’s eyes widened and he gasped.

“Is this why you’re never cold?”

“This and sorcery.” Enloth replied and started back toward the road. De’al tucked the flask into his coat and followed. Surely the old man was teasing, he thought.

***

The next day they strayed off the road and trekked through the woods proper. Enloth consulted his map with increasing frequency and De’al strained for any signs of the ancient ruins. They must be getting close, he hoped. Yet the hours went by and daylight diminished. Purple tinged shadows stretched before them and the first stars made their appearance in the moonless sky. Bird calls echoed in the distance and wolves howled. De’al shuddered.

A green blue light at the corner of his vision caught his attention. At first De’al took it to be the Auroras of the northern sky, a lucky omen. But the light flickered between the trees, too close to the ground. It’s smooth colours and undulating rhythm enticed De’al. Before long he was walking towards it, he glanced back at his discarded backpack. It didn’t seem important - he wondered why he’d brought it in the first place.

“De’al!” he heard. Someone was calling his name, behind him distant footsteps crunched the snow, getting closer with every second. Who was that? He thought. The green blue ripples of light swayed and merged in rhythm with his beating heart. A stray thought flowed into his mind - “Enloth” he whispered. The name seemed familiar - should he know it, was it important? He wondered. It seemed important, but the certainty of the fact faded, washed away by the light.

Deep within him something roiled and seethed but the feeling was faint, muffled by the beauty he witnessed. The footsteps behind him stopped. Silence blanketed all about him - the sound not absent so much as consumed. The roiling sensation from before intensified, it grew sharper and stronger. An echo of fear reached through the dull canopy of bliss, sharp as a needle. Sluggish memories flowed into his mind - Enloth, the ancient spirit, that name again, he thought. He came here for a purpose, he knew that much.

The light flowed and intensified, drowning out his mind once more. He longed to touch it, to be one with it. He stepped closer and reached out. Immediately he felt a pressure close upon his arm and held it tight. Panic flashed in his mind, it pushed against the blanket which weighed him down but to no avail. His heart beat faster, it lost the light’s rhythm, and in its stead it matched the roiling sensation deep within De’al. The two oscillated in unison.

His hand prickled where the light held it. The fingers became numb and the numbness consumed more of him with every second. Soon, his whole hand lost all feeling. He clenched his teeth and pulled, but it didn’t budge. He felt like a man about to drown. Fear ruptured through the dullness of his mind, it flowed throughout him like a cold wave. The light no longer held any beauty. The green blue ripples twisted and pooled in the center where they folded into a black void. It floated mere inches from his hand.

De’al screamed, a wordless shriek against the unrelenting will that forced itself upon him. His mind was filled with fear, it consumed all thought and all emotion. All but the very last of him, a primal will that pulsed in concert with his heart, growing loud and powerful. It beat like the drums of war, refusing to be eroded, a last vestige of his being that the foreign power would never possess. Ta-dun ta-dun ta-dun. Each beat sent ripples through his body, calling his fear to arms, heating it up until it blazed white hot. He screamed again, this time with purpose, the drums within him frenzied and his fear exploded into rage.

The black void contracted like a pupil would against a source of bright light. De’al forced the last of his will into his rage, he pushed against the void’s grip. His arm trembled, fist clenched, and finally the force that held him shattered. The sky wheeled as he tumbled to the ground and then there was nothing.

Enloth approached De’al’s unconscious body. The light of the shimmering dome played over his face though it never reached his eyes. It took much of his strength to hold it at bay and he marvelled at the young man lying before him.

“You almost had it this time.”