The Nexus Ring

by Maureen Bush

  “Tss. How can you be in our world?” Greyfur ­asked.

  “It’s a long story,” I started to say, just as Eneirda said, “They ate muskberries. Sssst!” That disgusted sound was back in her ­voice.

  I didn’t understand why she was making such a big deal about this. “Aleena said they were okay.”

  They drew back from us, ­hissing.

  “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong with eating muskberries?”

  Greyfur sighed. “Muskberries help us connect to our magic.”

  “Why don’t you want us to connect to your magic?” I ­asked.

  “Sssst! Humans harm magic! But you saved Godren. You are welcome here. Sit. We will bring food.”

  We sat by the river. I rolled up my pants, and washed my leg. My calf was covered in dried blood, and a long gash was still ­oozing.

  Greyfur drew Eneirda and Arnica away from us, and they chattered and whistled to one another. Finally, Arnica lifted Godren out of my hoodie, and she and Eneirda swam with him across the river. I tugged my hoodie over my head. It was still warm from Godren’s ­body.

  We watched Arnica carry Godren into one of the caves, followed by two ­otter-­people. The rest gathered around Eneirda, and she spoke to them briefly. Then the ­otter-­people scattered into caves and the forest. Soon they were back, swimming across the river with food balanced on large leaves. They spread a feast before us: small blue berries, icy water from the creek in a bark cup, mushrooms. Raw fish. Bugs laid out on leaves. A dead ­frog.

  Eneirda squatted near us and gestured for us to eat. Our hands hovered over the food, trying not to offend, but not sure what to eat. I thought the berries would be safe. They were tasteless and filled with gritty seeds. We had a handful each, then drank water to wash them down. The cold water hurt my ­teeth.

  Greyfur watched us. “Tss. You do not like our food?”

  Maddy struggled to be polite. “It’s very nice of you, but we don’t eat bugs, or raw fish, or…or frogs.”

  Greyfur nodded. “We forget. Humans cook food,” he told the others. “Light fire to cook. Chrrrr.” His purr was deeper than Eneirda’s, a lower ­rumble.

  Soon we were gulping down grilled meat. I was careful not to ask what it was. After more berries for dessert, we were ­full.

  That’s when Greyfur squatted in front of us, ready to talk. “Eneirda told of ring. What ring?”

  “She was mistaken,” I said. “There is no ring.”

  Greyfur gazed at me with large, dark eyes. It felt like standing in front of Mom, denying I’d done something wrong. I could never do it. I sighed. “Maddy, show him the ring.”

  She looked at me, puzzled. I nodded. Maddy slipped her hand into her pocket, then stretched it out to Greyfur, the ring on her finger. The ­otter-­people peered at it, then drew back, ­hissing.

  Greyfur spoke sternly. “Sssst! How do you have this? It is nexus ring.”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “We found it.”

  Maddy poured out the story. “It was the troll’s, then Aleena found it. She left it out to trap him, and I picked it up, and now she wants it back. The troll wants it too. But he’s frozen into stone near the Spiral Tunnels, and Aleena is trapped with him.”

  The ­otter-­people hummed and chattered, then turned back to ­us.

  “Nexus ring harms our magic. Sssst!” Greyfur said. “You must leave now.”

  “Eneirda brought us here. We just want to get home!” I ­said.

  “What of ring?”

  “What about it? Do you want it, too?”

  “We do not want it. Sssst! You must not keep it.”

  “What should we do with it?” I ­asked.

  “Ring must go to giant at Castle Mountain,” Eneirda said. “Chrrr. Only giant can keep it safe.”

  “Could you help us get home, then take the ring to the giant?” asked Maddy. She slid the ring off her finger and held it ­out.

  Eneirda leapt back as if it would burn her, and the others hissed. “Sssst! I will not touch it. You must take it. You must set this right.”

  “Us?” we both squeaked. “To a giant?”

  Chapter Eight

  Boat Fits Stream

  “A giant?” I said again, trying to keep my voice steady. “We can’t go to a giant. Giants are violent…mean…dangerous!”

  Greyfur shook his head. “Is not violent. Chrrrr. You must take ring. Guarded ring must be.”

  “Aleena didn’t say anything about the ring needing guarding,” said ­Maddy.

  “Aleena! Sssst!” Greyfur hissed. “Veil of magic separates our world from human world. Ring crossing between worlds tears veil. Troll and Aleena tear holes in veil. Now you, too! Sssst! Must stop. Ring must go to giant.”

  “We damaged the veil?” I asked. “When we crossed with Aleena?”

  “Ring tears veil every crossing. Aleena told you not?”

  “No,” I said, then sighed. I suspected there were a lot of things Aleena hadn’t told ­us.

  “We only have…” I glanced at my watch, remembered it was useless here, and screwed up my eyes to think, “…maybe ten hours before the troll and Aleena could be after us again. We have to get home before then.”

  “Hurry, then, tss. Our world must not be harmed.”

  “But what about getting home?”

  “Giant will help. First to giant, then home.” He looked deep into my eyes, and nodded reassurance. “There is time. Chrrrr. Go now.”

  What should we do? If we had damaged the veil, maybe we needed to make up for it. I shuddered, then said to Maddy, “I think we need to take the ring to the giant.”

  “Are you sure?” Maddy’s voice ­quivered.

  “No, I’m not sure. But if we give the ring to the giant, the troll and Aleena won’t be interested in us any more. Then the giant can help us get home.” I felt queasy saying that. I did not want to ask a giant for help!

  But Greyfur looked at me with surprised approval. I felt like I do when Dad praises me, like I’d done something to be proud ­of.

  “How do we get there?” I ­asked.

  “I will paddle,” said ­Eneirda.

  Everyone turned to her. Greyfur held up his hand. “It will be difficult, tss, to take two over beginning of waters.”

  “It is necessary,” she ­answered.

  Somehow that was enough for the ­otter-­people. One swam across the river and returned in an oval boat made of speckled grey bark stretched over a ring of branches. He handed Eneirda a little pouch of woven grasses on a knotted strap. Eneirda slipped it over her head. Then each ­otter-­person stepped forward and touched her, forehead to forehead. It was eerie and solemn, and I wondered how difficult this was going to ­be.

  Eneirda stepped into the boat, then held out a hand for Maddy. Once Maddy had settled beside her, I couldn’t see how I could fit in with them. The boat was just too small. But Eneirda gestured to me. “Chrrr. Boat will be as big as we need.”

  That made no sense at all, but with all the ­otter-­people watching, I stepped in and somehow, there was room for me to squeeze in beside Maddy. Eneirda knelt in front, pushed off, and began paddling ­upstream.

  Water rushed past, leaping over rocks. Eneirda paddled softly, just enough to steer downstream on a quiet river. And yet we were travelling upstream on a mountain torrent. How was she doing ­it?

  And how were we going to cross from the west side of the Rocky Mountains to the east side? Rivers don’t cross the Continental Divide. Whatever stream we followed would get smaller and smaller until we reached its headwaters at the glaciers along the peaks of the Rocky ­Mountains.

  “How are we going to get to Castle Mountain?” I asked. “If we follow the river, it will become too small for the boat. Then what?”

  “Boat will be size we need, tss.”

  “Huh?” asked ­Maddy.

  “For me, is small,” she explained patiently. “For three, is bigger. For small water, is smaller. Chrrr. Just like paddle. Where we need go, paddle t
akes us. Upstream, downstream, no difference.” She settled back to paddling as if that made everything ­clear.

  It wasn’t at all clear to me. “But what about where the river ends? I mean begins? Where water is melting off the glaciers?”

  “Will paddle up glacier melts.”

  “But they’re too small!”

  “Chrrr. Boat will be size we need.”

  I tried to picture the three of us perched on a tiny ­boat.

  Eneirda laughed and said, “We will fit. Safely we will ­cross:

  Boat fit stream,

  people fit boat,

  paddle fit current.”

  I still didn’t ­understand.

  I dangled a hand in the river, then yanked it out. The water was as cold as ice. And the colour was changing. The river looked green on one side, and milky white on the other. I kept watching, and the colours separated further. “Maddy, look at the water. It’s striped.” Then I asked Eneirda, “What’s going on?”

  “Two rivers join. Chrrr. One white with glacier dust, one clear green.”

  “Which way do we go?” Maddy ­asked.

  Eneirda lifted her paddle and pointed. “Ahead is meeting of waters, tss. We take clear river.”

  I could see two rivers joining. On the left was a milky white river, broad and slow. To the right, clear green water tumbled down a waterfall, wild and narrow. She wanted us to go up that? My heart leapt up my throat. “How can we go up a waterfall? Surely the other way will be easier.”

  “If take easy way, will reach falling water. In human world, Takakkaw Falls. So steep, water falls as mist, tss. Even this boat cannot rise straight up. Even this paddle cannot pull through mist.”

  I stared at the churning water ahead of us. “But how can we survive that?” Maddy was staring too, and I felt her small fingers lock around ­mine.

  Eneirda stopped in the pool below the waterfall, using her paddle to hold us steady. “Boat and paddle are magic. Chrrr. It is necessary. Ring is only safe with giant.”

  “But why?” asked ­Maddy.

  “Giant at Castle Mountain has one desire, tss, to protect magic world. He protects best by guarding nexus ring. If giant keeps ring, it cannot tear veil, and magic cannot leak into human world. Chrrr.”

  “Magic leaking into our world?” I said. “That would be fantastic!”

  “Sssst! Humans destroy magic. We would have less and less, and become like you.”

  I thought about how beautiful this world was, and compared it to our world. Maybe they did need to protect their magic from ­us.

  Eneirda positioned the boat in the green stripe of water, paused a moment, then headed straight up the waterfall. Maddy fell back and screamed as the boat tilted upwards. I grabbed her, and we clung to the sides of the boat. Eneirda, perched in front, reached up into the waterfall to paddle. I tried not to look down at the water smashing at the base of the falls. Up and up we went, gasping in fear, icy water splashing us, numbing our hands. And then with a thud the boat leveled out, and we were above the ­waterfall.

  As Maddy and I settled back, shaking and queasy, Eneirda kept paddling. We dashed between rocks and twisting roots, and ducked under fallen trees. The air grew colder and sharper, and gradually the trees thinned and became gnarled. I knew stunted trees grew

  in alpine areas, twisted by wind and snow, but they’re usually small, and these were huge. And then I realized the stream was a tiny creek now, winding through rocky slopes, surrounded by small, stunted trees. And we had shrunk. The boat fit the stream, and we fit the boat, just like in Eneirda’s ­poem.

  I showed Maddy, and after a shocked look around, she snuggled close against my shoulder. Together we watched the stunted trees pass by. For a long time I thought about how to recreate this in a series of paintings. Then I noticed Maddy ­trembling.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She whispered, face white, “Fee, Fie, Foh, Fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman.”

  I shuddered. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.” But now that she had said it, all I could think about was Jack and the Beanstalk, and the giant who wanted to eat him. I looked around to try to take my mind off crunching ­bones.

  We were crossing a high mountain meadow spotted with bright flowers. Beyond it, I could see mountain range after mountain range, snow patches catching the evening sun. The creek became smaller, the air thinner, and still Eneirda paddled. Soon snowbanks surrounded us and then, around a twist in the creek, we faced a wall of ­ice.

  “Beginning of waters,” Eneirda said. “River begins with glacier melting. Glaciers grow in winter, shrink in summer. Now shrink more than grow. Sssst! Down this valley glacier once reached.”

  Looking at the meadow below us I could imagine a spur of ice stretching ­down.

  “Why is it melting?” Maddy ­asked.

  Eneirda scowled. “Sssst! Humans light many fires. Even warms our world. Now glaciers melt.”

  I turned away from her scornful ­eyes.

  We headed up the face of the glacier. I helped Eneirda navigate smaller and smaller trickles of water. Finally, she grounded the ­boat.

  I stepped out first, and as soon as my weight was off the boat, I started to grow. I felt like an elastic as my arms and legs stretched. Soon I was normal size, looking down at ­doll-­like Maddy and Eneirda in a toy boat. I held it steady while they climbed out, and soon they were normal size ­too.

  “We walk now,” Eneirda said. “We walk to water flow on other side.”

  I had hoped I could carry the boat in my pocket, but it grew as soon as I took it out of the water. I lifted it onto my shoulders as Maddy and Eneirda started up the ­ice.

  Walking on the glacier was slippery, like crossing a skating rink tilted uphill, but it sounded like crunching across hard snow. There were deep cracks in the ice, big enough for a person to fall into. As soon as I started walking, I realized how high we were. I was warmer, moving, but short of breath and ­lightheaded.

  I hurried to catch up with Eneirda, tipping the boat to one side so I wouldn’t hit her. “Will we be okay at this altitude?”

  She just looked at me, ­puzzled.

  “We’re really, really high,” I said. “The air is thinner. Will we be okay here?”

  Eneirda nodded. “Forget. High altitude bothers humans. Tss, where do you live? Near ocean? Or in high place?”

  “Well, Calgary’s pretty high. Not like this, but way higher than sea level.”

  “Fine, then.”

  But it didn’t feel fine. This was the hardest I’d ever ­worked.

  As I struggled up the ice, I looked around. Mountain peaks surrounded us, lit by golden sunlight. A constant wind whistled in my ears and chilled the sweat on my ­skin.

  Eneirda spoke softly. “Many dangers here. Tss, be quiet inside. Magic will guide us.”

  The low sun cast shadows in the deep cracks waiting to swallow us. I peered into a crevasse and gulped. If we fell into that, we’d never get out. I was scared, but fascinated too. The ice inside the crevasse was a deep blue; I gazed down, wondering how I could capture that translucent blue on ­paper.

  As we climbed I could feel sweat dripping down my back, then freezing in the cold wind. Maddy looked blue, from cold or maybe lack of oxygen. I finally noticed how quiet she’d been, ever since I’d decided we would go to the giant. But it wasn’t the giant that was scaring me right now. A chant kept echoing in my head: Troll in the morning, troll in the ­morning.

  And then I slipped stepping over a crevasse. As I slid, fear blazed through my body and somehow propelled my legs in a great leap to safety. Then I stood, clinging to the boat, panting and waiting for my heartbeat to ­slow.

  Eneirda’s lips tightened as she glanced at me with a look that reminded me of how she said “humans.” I looked ­away.

  She touched my arm. “Quiet your mind must be, tss. Human minds always busy. You must stop. Maddy is quiet.”

  Sure, because she’s terrified, I thought. And the
n I slipped ­again.

  “Sssst! You must listen! Let muskberries help. Look from inside.”

  “I don’t see with my insides. I see with my eyes, and my hands.”

  “How see with your hands?”

  “Well, I sort of feel what I’m drawing.”

  “Chrrr. Then see with hands. Be still inside. Let fingers guide you.”

  I groaned. She was as crazy as Mom. But then my feet slid out from under me and I collapsed as my legs dropped into a crevasse. Maddy and Eneirda leapt forward and pulled me out, then Maddy hung on to the boat to stop it from sliding ­away.

  Once I was standing again, Eneirda stood in front of me, arms folded. “Sssst! If cannot, will be dead.”

  Dead? Oh, come on! But the look on her face was deadly serious. I gulped. She meant it! Maddy was frowning at me too. I made a face back, then remembered her dragging me out of the path of the avalanche. She saved my life then, and I promised to get her ­home.

  Okay, I thought, I can be quiet. I took a deep breath, then another. Then I concentrated on my fingers. I imagined drawing the glacier, the crevasses, the deep blue shadows, sun gleaming off the ice. I felt a surge of energy, like when I ate muskberries. And suddenly I knew where to step, as if I was connected to the glacier ­somehow.

  Eneirda looked pleased for just a moment, then she turned and walked on. I kept breathing and drawing in my head, and we kept climbing up the glacier. Then we reached the top, and I thought, Hey, I did it! I haven’t been falling!

  And then my feet slid out from under me and I crashed down, dropping the boat. It slid away from me, and I scrambled to grab it before it slipped down a crevasse. I tried to settle myself again. As long as I focused on my fingers, and not on the troll or the giant or my pride, my feet seemed to know where to ­go.

  The setting sun lit the sky in peach and orange and pink. Even the blue shadows were warmed by it. The sun sets around 9:30 in late July in this part of the human world; I wondered if it was the same ­here.

  As we climbed down the east side of the glacier, we could hear a trickle of water. Eneirda started searching for a stream. Past the edge of the glacier, I could see ­ground-­up rock everywhere, as if someone had dumped thousands of truckloads of ­fine-­ground gravel, ­fist-­size rocks, and large boulders. They were in all colours – lots of greys, but browns and oranges too, greens and ­blue-­greys. I could see the same colours in the rocks in the surrounding mountains. ­Blue-­grey on one mountain, rusty orange on another, greys and tans. I took another mental snapshot, determined to paint ­this.