The Nexus Ring

by Maureen Bush

  “But why is that stuff growing here?”

  “This algae likes warm water and sulphur,” said Keeper. “It is happy here.”

  Maddy and I made faces at each other, then walked on along the base of the ­hillside.

  Even with Keeper’s blanket of warmth, we were still wet, and soon the mountain wind set us shivering. When Keeper noticed, he stood us side by side with our arms up. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air, then blew on us, but with more and hotter air than his lungs could possibly hold. It was like standing under the hair dryer at the swimming pool, only ­bigger.

  He twirled a finger in a circle for us to turn so he could dry us all around, and I laughed at what a delicate movement it was in such a huge ­hand.

  When we were dry and warm, Keeper said, “Some doorways have been lost through human changes. But there is one close to your meeting place. I will open the doorway with the ring, we will cross to your world, and I will return.” He looked ­sad.

  “What’s wrong?” Maddy ­asked.

  “The ring should not be used, but I do not have enough magic without it. We will tear the veil twice. But you must get back to your world, and you do not have your own magic.”

  “I have some magic,” I said. “Well, sort of. I used firestone.”

  His eyes widened, and he leaned closer to me. “How could you?”

  I tried to explain. “Aleena fed us muskberries, and Eneirda taught me how to use my fingers to feel magic. And, well, I just did it.”

  Keeper smiled. “Maybe together we can work the magic we need.” He held out the ring, tiny in his rocky hand, and Maddy and I each touched a finger to it. Keeper closed his eyes for a moment, thinking, then spoke in his slow, deep voice. “Imagine a doorway, here in front of us. Breathe in imagining, breathe out mist.”

  I shut my eyes and tried to focus, but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking of Mom and Dad, and remembering the rock hanging over Maddy’s head, and the taste of muskberries. But I couldn’t focus on imagining a ­doorway.

  Why couldn’t I do this? I could use the firestone. I remembered the first touch of the thread of fire, and realized I needed to use my ­fingers.

  Instead of trying to imagine the doorway, I sketched it. With a finger scratching against my pant leg, I drew a doorway like the one we’d gone through with Aleena. As I drew, I could feel energy building, and I pulled it into my lungs as I inhaled. When I exhaled, mist blew from my mouth and thickened into a white fog. And slowly a doorway formed in the ­mist.

  The crags of Keeper’s face shifted into an enormous grin. “You opened the doorway! You can cross without me!”

  “Will we still cause a tear?” asked ­Maddy.

  “No. Because Josh has magic, you can cross without me, without the ring. It is only the ring crossing that tears the veil.”

  Keeper looked carefully at my face. “Are you tired?” he ­asked.

  “No, I’m fine,” I said. “Why?”

  “Magic folk get very tired opening a doorway.” He looked ­puzzled.

  I shrugged. “Well, I feel okay.”

  Keeper nodded slowly, then he smiled as he looked down at us. “You must cross now. Follow the animal trail up the hillside. There is a fallen tree pointing the way. Follow the trail to the tunnel for animals to walk under the highway.”

  “I remember the tunnel,” I said. “It was built so animals wouldn’t get killed crossing the road.”

  Keeper ­nodded.

  “Will we meet a bear?” asked Maddy, eyes huge ­again.

  “No. Big animals do not like tunnels,” Keeper said. “Before the tunnel, turn left, walk to the fence, climb it, then walk to the highway viewpoint.”

  Tree pointing, animal trail, uphill, left at tunnel, climb fence. I didn’t feel at all confident we could find the viewpoint, but I figured that as long as I could see Mount Rundle, I could at least find the ­highway.

  Maddy reached up to hug Keeper, and he swept her into his arms. She looked like a doll, with her legs dangling. He held her tight and whispered, “Little Maddy.” He tapped the silver ring on her finger. “This ring will help you see magic.”

  I tried to shake hands, but he pulled me close. “Josh, never forget the magic in you.”

  “Goodbye. Thank you,” we said as we turned towards the ­doorway.

  “Children returned the nexus ring. Keeper will never forget.”

  Keeper stood near the doorway while Maddy and I held hands and stepped in. Immediately, we were surrounded by fog. We looked back and couldn’t see a thing. I could only hear whirring. I checked my watch; the hands were spinning ­wildly.

  Ahead of us another doorway appeared in the mist, and we stepped through onto thick, tall grass on the shore of a small lake. Behind us, I could see nothing but the doorway and ­fog.

  The lakeshore was peaceful by human standards, with wind blowing through the grasses, birds calling across the water, and the fragrance of mint drifting up as we walked. But the colours seemed muted and the air stale after the vibrancy of the magic world. Across the lake, I could hear a train engine whining and a ­lower-­pitched thrumming of wheels on tracks. The radiance of magic was gone and I was already missing ­it.

  “There’s the fallen tree,” said Maddy, pointing away from the ­lake.

  I sighed. “Okay, let’s go.”

  We walked to the tree, then let it point our way up the hillside. We found a path through the trees almost right away. As we followed it uphill, the trees changed from ­dancing-­leaved aspen to dark ­spruce.

  Maddy carefully stepped around some round black poops on the trail. “We’re definitely on an animal path,” she said. “I just hope Keeper was right about bears not liking the tunnel.”

  We spotted the highway above us and soon we could see a boxy tunnel under the highway. “Turn left,” I said. “Isn’t that what Keeper said?”

  “Um, I think so,” said Maddy, but she didn’t look ­sure.

  Great. We turned left, and soon came to a fence made of wire mesh stretched across green wooden frames and posts. “I hope this is the right place,” I ­muttered.

  “It is, it is!” shouted Maddy. “Look!”

  She pointed up through the trees towards the highway. I couldn’t see anything until I stood right behind her and spotted the wooden signs pointing to the mountains surrounding the ­viewpoint.

  “That’s it!’ I ­said.

  I have no idea why, but part of the fence was angled at ­forty-­five degrees, so I just walked up the wire mesh, then swung myself over the top edge of wood and climbed down the post. Then Maddy walked up the fence and I helped her ­down.

  We found another path on the other side, a human trail marked by scraps of garbage. The trail led us straight to the viewpoint. We followed the path to the end of a low stone wall and stepped around it as if we’d just been out for a walk. Maddy followed me down the sidewalk beside the wall. A tour bus pulled into the parking lot and soon we were surrounded by ­picture-­snapping tourists. They oohed and ahhed over the view of Mount Rundle and the glimpse of Banff. Families and cyclists joined them, but our parents weren’t ­there.

  We sat on the wall, waiting in the sun. I watched for the van, then looked at the people around us. They kept glancing at us, then looking away. In spite of our trip down the river, we were filthy. I had torn and bloody jeans, and Maddy and I both had ­mud-­caked runners, tangled hair, and ­berry-­stained shirts. Maybe it would be best not to talk to ­anyone.

  “Is it the right day?” Maddy ­asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I checked my watch: 3:27. That seemed vaguely right for the angle of the sun. But how could we ask? “If we just sit here,” I murmured to Maddy, “they’ll ignore us, but if we ask the time and date, they’ll start asking about our parents.”

  Then I remembered what Keeper had said. “Never forget the magic in you.” I sat quietly, and felt with my fingers. Softly, I began to sketch on my jeans – where were ­they?

  I
tried to relax and just sketch, without thinking. My dirty fingers kept drawing a circle with eight flat sides. I couldn’t figure out what it was, until I tried to quiet myself again, and realized it was a stop sign. Then my fingers added a long pole, and a woman in a hard hat leaning against it. I started to ­laugh.

  Maddy turned to me. “What’s so funny?”

  “Construction delay,” I said. “They’ll be here soon.”

  We sat leaning against each other, watching the tourists file back onto their bus. Slowly it backed up and drove away. And then Mom and Dad pulled up to the curb. Maddy and I ducked out of sight and scooted over to the van. Just as Keeper had promised, as we neared the van the Shadows ­vanished.

  “Wow, did you guys ever get out fast! I thought you were asleep.” Those were Dad’s first words to his missing kids. “I wish you were always this quiet. We made great time, except for that delay for highway construction near Golden. Just a bit behind schedule.”

  Then Mom said, “You two are filthy! How did you get so dirty at the Boardwalk? Baths for both of you as soon as we get back.” She shook her head at us. Then she said, “Now that you’ve woken up, why don’t we look for some magic to get us through the final veil of mist?”

  Maddy and I looked at each other and ­grinned.

  “No,” I said, “we’ve had enough magic for now.”

  As we headed back to the van Maddy asked me, quietly, “We’ll be home soon, won’t we?”

  “Yes,” I said, “we’re almost home.”

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to everyone who helped me become a better writer, and this a better story, especially Mr. Gayle, Terry Gilbert, Eileen Coughlan, Valerie Compton, Maggie de Vries, Richard Scrimger and Cathy Beveridge; to all my friends and family who read the manuscript and encouraged me; to Brenda Rudd who said, “Of course you’re creative,” and started it all; and to Barbara Sapergia at Coteau Books who rescued my story from the slush ­pile.

  And more thanks to Laura Peetoom, for her careful editing, always aware of what the story needed; and to everyone at Coteau Books, who are a joy to work ­with.

  About the Author

  Maureen Bush has a Post-graduate Certificate of Creative Writing from Humber College. She also obtained a Bachelor’s degree in History and a Masters in Environmental Design (Environmental Science), both from the University of Calgary. She is a trained mediator and public involvement consultant, and has written and edited in this field.

  Born in Edmonton, Maureen Bush now lives in Calgary with her husband and two daughters.