by Maureen Bush
As the moon rose high above us, the temperature dropped, and cold seeped in. When Maddy’s teeth started chattering, I said, “We’re getting really cold. Could you warm us with magic?”
“You do it,” said Eneirda.
I frowned. “I don’t know how!”
“We cannot spare magic,” said Greyfur. “You must do it, hnn.”
I looked into his face and saw a fatigue I hadn’t noticed before. Eneirda looked the same – pale, dark around the eyes, and tight-jawed with the effort of paddling. “Why are you tired? I thought your paddles were magic.”
Eneirda leaned close to Greyfur and hissed, “Sssst! Tell him.”
I don’t think she meant us to hear, but sound carries well on the water. “Tell us what?” I said.
Maddy glanced at me and leaned forward to listen.
Greyfur shook his head at Eneirda and spoke. “Our magic is weakened by magic leaking, tss. This journey is difficult for us.”
“Sssst!” hissed Eneirda. “Tell them all.”
Greyfur sighed. “As magic leaks out of our world, we are weakened. We ate muskberries to build magic, as many as we could. Tss. Now we hope we are strong enough to reach Castle Mountain.”
“That is why,” Eneirda added, “you must warm yourselves.”
Maddy slipped her ring off her finger and looked through it at Greyfur and Eneirda. “Josh,” she whispered, “you can see their magic fading.”
I held up her ring. The magic that had radiated off Greyfur and Eneirda so strongly was paler now, and thinning in spots. So I decided to try. My magic had weakened in the human world; now, as I concentrated, it flowed faster, filling me. I imagined myself surrounded with magic, and immediately felt warmer.
Greyfur had been watching – he nodded his approval.
“What about Maddy?” I asked.
“Chrrr. Maddy too,” he said.
“How?”
“Wrap her in magic.”
I took a deep breath, determined to try. I pulled magic into my hands and drew it around Maddy, imagining a bubble of warmth. Maddy made a face but sat still as I experimented. Magic began to flow, and slowly I surrounded her.
She relaxed as the magic warmed her, but she frowned at me. “You have too much magic,” she said. “It’s not right for a human.”
But I loved it, and so did the crows. They circled closer above me, as if they could feel my magic.
“Tss. Humans used to have magic,” said Greyfur.
“Really?” asked Maddy. “What happened?”
“They became busy with other things, hnn, and forgot.”
“And now it’s gone.” Maddy sighed. “Except for Josh.”
“Not gone. Out of reach for most humans. Chrrr. There is always magic, even in human world.”
“There is?” Maddy asked, her eyes shining.
“Yes. Tss. Think about it.”
Maddy sat pondering. Then slowly she smiled and started a list. “Art. Music. Babies.”
Greyfur nodded. “Birth.”
“And death?” she asked, hesitantly.
“Of course,” said Greyfur.
“Then,” she said, hesitating again as she thought about it, “why does it matter if magic leaks from your world to ours?”
Eneirda hissed, and the crows cawed.
Greyfur just nodded. “There is more magic here, hnn. You feel it?”
We both nodded.
“When magic leaks from our world to human, tss, we have less. That harms us.”
“We care for magic,” said Eneirda. “Humans waste theirs. Sssst! So we have much. And they have little.”
We were all silent after that, deep in our own thoughts. Eventually I slept, lulled by the rocking of the boat.
I woke as the boat ground onto gravel, coming to a stop in total blackness.
“I can’t see a thing,” said Maddy.
“Humans,” muttered Eneirda.
“Do you have your firestone?” asked Greyfur.
Of course. I reached into a pocket and pulled it out. I held it in my palm, smooth and black, and let magic fill me. Slowly, gold threads within the stone began to glow. I focused more magic into it, and the stone cast enough light for Maddy and me to see as we stepped out of the boat onto a pebble beach.
The wind was sharp, and it was hard to hear anything over an enormous roaring. Even with my firestone, I couldn’t see beyond the edge of the river and a small pocket of beach. Either clouds had blocked the moon, or we were somewhere the moon couldn’t reach, somewhere narrow and dark and cold.
“Now we wait for dawn, hnn,” said Greyfur.
“We just wait?” asked Maddy. She sounded nervous in the dark.
“Would fire comfort you?” Greyfur asked.
“Oh, yes!”
While Maddy built a teepee of small dry twigs on the shore, I focused on my firestone, studying the gleaming gold threads. Gently I reached in and grasped the tip of one. I pulled it out and touched it to the kindling as it twisted and flared. When the wood began to smoke I dropped the thread onto it. As the fire grew, Maddy carefully added larger twigs and then small branches.
We warmed our hands, and turned and toasted all our cold spots. Sparks from the fire rose straight to the stars. But I could only see stars above us – to the sides we were enclosed in darkness.
Slowly the sky high above us shifted from black to deep blue. We were on the pebbly bank of a river, the Bow, I assumed, surrounded by cliffs and forest, on the outside curve of the river where it turned after plunging down a waterfall.
Eneirda and Greyfur stood at the edge examining the water flow – where the water was deep and fast, where it was slower. With dismay I realized they were choosing a route. They turned to us and nodded. It was time to go.
My stomach felt like it had its own waterfall, plunging and smashing and gurgling. I reminded myself that the otter-people’s boats were amazing and their paddles strong with magic, but I wasn’t convinced. Greyfur and Eneirda looked more tired than I’d ever seen them.
Maddy studied them through her ring. “Their magic is thinning. They need to rest a little longer.”
“No,” said Greyfur. “We must go now. We will rest at Castle Mountain.”
When Maddy looked ready to argue, Greyfur held up a hand. “Waiting will not help, tss. We will become more tired. We must go now.”
The crows circled close overhead, squawking angrily as we settled in the boat.
“What’s wrong with them?” I asked.
Greyfur said, “They do not trust what they call our infernal boat to keep their crow boy safe. Tss. But we will.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, searching for courage. Then I swallowed and helped Maddy into the boat.
Eneirda and Greyfur muttered softly as they pulled magic into the paddles and headed up the waterfall. They propelled us through the crashing waves and around huge jutting rocks. The paddles sang as they followed the deepest flow of water, weaving back and forth across the width of the river. Maddy and I hung on as the water fought back, tearing at the boat. When we finally reached the top, we sighed in relief. Greyfur and Eneirda sagged with fatigue.
“I can paddle,” I said.
“No!” said Greyfur. “Your magic must be preserved.” They sat up and continued paddling, slowly but steadily, ignoring their fatigue.
I could feel the approval of the crows, still driven to push on.
As the mist cleared, mountains appeared high above us, pale in the early dawn. All the colours were soft pastels, white and blue, pale gold and soft red. It would be beautiful in the human world. Here, with the glow of magic on everything, it stopped my breath. Then I remembered we were going to a Gathering so I could try to repair the veil. I felt sick.
Greyfur and Eneirda drooped lower and lower, pale and panting. Then Eneirda collapsed, slumping over her paddle.
“You can’t do this,” said Maddy.
“Tss, we will do what is needed,” Greyfur muttered.
“For h
ow long?”
“Until it is done.”
“Until you die?” Maddy demanded.
Eneirda lifted her head for a moment. “If we complete our task...” and then she shrugged, as if that was all that mattered.
“I’ll paddle,” I said.
She started to shake her head, then paused “Tss. Perhaps you could try,” she said, sounding both distrustful and hopeful. She shifted to sit beside Maddy, while I moved forward. Corvus circled low, cawing.
“He does not approve,” said Greyfur.
“That’s enough, Corvus. I’ll be fine,” I said, as I picked up the paddle.
Greyfur said, “Let magic flow through your hands.”
I could feel the grain and the strength of the wood. As I dipped the paddle into the river, it bit deep and the boat surged forward.
The river snaked back and forth down a wide valley, the water a sparkling blue. Splashes of gold lit the riverbank as the last aspen leaves clung and spun in the wind.
“There’s Castle Mountain,” I said, pointing with the blade of my paddle. The rising sun lit Castle in an orange glow, highlighting all the fissures in the mountain, with snow lying in bands like a layer cake.
When we finally reached Castle I breathed out in relief, but Greyfur steered us to the mouth of a small stream.
“Where now?” Maddy asked.
“The Gathering is above the lake behind Castle Mountain,” said Greyfur.
“You need to rest.”
Greyfur just shook his head.
We paddled up the stream, and as it grew smaller, the boat became smaller too. We shrank with it, becoming as small as the stream twisting around a maze of fallen trees. The crows were huge, flying high above us. I felt odd, constricted, as I struggled to paddle into the tangled forest.
Maddy watched through her ring. “You’re pulsing,” she said. “It’s like your body wants to be bigger but magic is holding it in.” She examined her own hand, Greyfur and Eneirda, and the boat. “Magic is flowing from Eneirda into the boat so it can keep us small. And more magic is flowing from you and Greyfur into the paddles.”
The stream wound through a forest of lodgepole pine, lichen hanging silvery grey from dead branches. When we reached a waterfall I stopped in shock. How could I paddle up that?
But almost immediately we were rising up the waterfall, Greyfur digging his paddle in at the front of the boat. I leaned forward and joined him. If we took turns, we could keep it moving straight up, although I noticed it surged forward more for me than it did for Greyfur.
Finally the stream calmed as the ground levelled out. With a moan, Greyfur slumped forward, exhausted.
“Rest,” I said. “I can do this.” I could feel my body stretching as we grew and settled back into our normal sizes. Paddling felt no different, but my body felt better, like I could breathe fully again.
I kept going, up the stream to the lake. All kinds of creatures were gathered at the far shore, waiting for us. With an escort of crows cawing above us, I paddled towards them. I felt deeply afraid.
Chapter Three
The Gathering
The crowd of magic folk waiting for us seemed to grow larger and larger as we crossed the lake, a mass of beings shifting in and out of the shadows. I dug in and paddled faster, driven like the crows. Greyfur and Eneirda were totally still.
The crows circled above us and began to caw in a raucous announcement of our arrival. Every creature waiting for the Gathering turned to look. I could hear the crows’ pride, but I just felt embarrassed.
“Corvus,” I said quietly, and shook my head.
Corvus cawed once and the crows fell silent. But they still flew overhead in a mass of black.
Otter-people were waiting as we reached the shore. Shaking with exhaustion, Greyfur and Eneirda struggled to stand. The otter-people caught them, helped them from the boat and carried them to a small encampment on the shore of the lake, away from the others.
I borrowed Maddy’s ring to watch. The magic that had surrounded them earlier was almost gone. What was left was thin and pale. Everything else around me glowed with magic, but it seemed to fade above the lake. That’s where I spotted a doorway in the veil, with a ragged gash stretching across it. Golden light poured through into the human world. All around it, the magic world looked faded and grey.
The crowd of magic folk spread out along the lakeshore, staying far from the tear in the veil. They stayed away from me, too. I felt alone in the huge crowd, with only Maddy at my side. Well, Maddy and the crows, but they weren’t exactly a comfort. Corvus landed on my shoulder and cawed. The others settled around us, a coal-black honour guard.
I looked more closely at who was here for the Gathering. Moose and deer grazed in the meadow near porcupines, chipmunks and marmots. Two buffalo stood at the edge of the meadow. Mountain sheep perched on the cliffs above the lake.
Aleena sat on the shore, far from the otter-people. She looked like a shadow, in a black cloak with long grey hair shading to black down her back. She raised a hand in greeting but didn’t join us. Although she was a powerful water spirit, she looked pale and afraid.
Maddy pulled me over to her. “Come with us,” she said.
Aleena stepped back and shook her head. “No!”
“I thought we were friends,” said Maddy. She sounded hurt.
I saw something flicker over Aleena’s face, but she didn’t speak right away. Then she nodded towards the magic folk. “I am here because of you and Josh,” she said, “and the need to repair the veil. They are not my friends.”
I remembered how much they disliked her for her part in damaging the veil. “Stay here,” I said, “away from the crowd.”
Aleena nodded, and Maddy waved as we walked away.
When we’d first known Aleena, we’d fought her and Gronvald for the nexus ring. He still hated us for destroying it, but Aleena had helped, when she finally understood what the tears were doing to the magic world.
We’d become sort of friends when I’d rescued her and Maddy, after we were pulled deep into the earth and trapped. The earth magic made Maddy and Aleena really sick, but I’d loved it, so I took the nexus ring deeper still so that Maddy and Aleena would be allowed to leave.
But I understood her uneasiness with the magic folk at the gathering. I wondered who else was uncomfortable with the crowd. As we walked back, I looked into the forest. I thought I spotted bears and wolves and strange creatures I wasn’t sure I wanted to see too closely. Some moved deeper into the shadows when they saw me watching. I could feel their simmering energy – I did not want to be at the centre of it.
As we studied the crowd, a large hand came down on my shoulder.
“Keeper!” Maddy yelped as I turned.
He hugged us both and laughed. “I knew you would come,” he said, his voice deep and rumbly. He looked just the same as the last time we’d seen him: enormously tall, craggy and grey like the rocks around us. Grey hair, grey clothes, grey skin.
It was wonderful to see him again. I knew that whatever was going on, Keeper would help make it right.
“But I am no longer Keeper,” he said. “I have a new name.”
Maddy looked shocked. “Why?”
“I made the nexus ring. When we learned how dangerous it was, I kept it safe, so I was Keeper, although I did not do that very well. Then I destroyed it, so now I am Destroyer.”
Maddy leaned against him for a moment. “Destroyer is such a scary name. Can’t you be something else?” She stared into space for a moment. “How about Ring Crusher?” she asked, her eyes lit up and her face eager.
Keeper laughed, in great bellows that echoed off the mountains. The magic folk all turned to us. He called out, “The children do not like my new name. They think I should be called Ring Crusher.”
The crowd roared with laughter. Keeper laughed so hard tears ran down his face.
“Why is that so funny?” Maddy asked, looking offended.
He patted her shoulder, knocki
ng her over. He caught her and stood her up again. “Ring Crusher is not a name for a grown giant.” He laughed again.
“Why not?” I asked, checking that Maddy wasn’t hurt.
“That is a baby name, for baby giants – a sweet, funny name. ‘Oh, look at little Ring Crusher.’ That is not a name for a fully grown giant. And sometimes giant names change.” He smiled and patted her again, very gently this time.
Like Maddy, I hated the name Destroyer. I wasn’t about to stop calling him Keeper. “Why did you send for us?” I asked.
“The tears in the veil will not heal. We have tried everything we know, and have failed. Now we need you, my magic boy.”
I shook my head. “I have no idea what to do.”
“We will help you figure it out.”
I wanted to argue, but Maddy slipped her hand into Keeper’s huge one, and asked, “Are Gatherings always here?”
“Oh no,” said Keeper. “A Gathering will be wherever it is needed. But always in a place comfortable for all magic folk. We need meadow and forest, sky and cliffs and water. All are safe at a Gathering.”
I wondered about that as I watched the crows tease a pack of wolves. They flew just out of reach, cawing and scolding. The wolves would lie very still, until a crow flew too close. Then a wolf would lunge and the crow would fly off in a squawking, feather-flying scramble. But soon they were at it again.
“Corvus, the crows should leave the wolves alone,” I yelled.
“We can handle them ourselves,” a large grey wolf growled.
That’s what worries me, I thought. I gestured for the crows to join us, and to be quiet. “Who comes to a Gathering?” I asked.
“Only the locals,” said Keeper.
“What do you mean?” Maddy asked.
He smiled down at her. “Well, there are no mermaids, no ocean spirits.”
“But other spirits?” I asked.
“Yes. There are tree spirits and water spirits and mountain spirits.” He pointed to Castle Mountain, looming above us.
I could see something moving on the mountain, like mist shifting and reforming, sometimes dark, sometimes shining.
“That is the spirit of Storm Mountain,” he said.
