We sat outside the cave, watching eagles float above the peaks. Below us, the mountain curved down in a huge bowl, cradling a lake. Bear cubs tumbled in a meadow. Storm clouds moved off to the south, and we basked in the sun and talked about getting home.
“I know where we are,” I said. “If we can cross over to our side of the veil, and go to the highway and stop someone, they’ll take us to the police. And the police will call our parents.”
“You want the police?” asked Keeper slowly. “Why not your parents?”
“Well, sure,” I said, “I’d like to go straight home, but we can’t. We’ve been missing for days.” The troll’s Shadows couldn’t be convincing at home, joking at dinner and doing homework. “Mom and Dad will have called the police already.”
“No,” said Keeper. He paused for a moment, then explained. “Time shifts crossing the veil. I can fix it. Where would you like to meet them?”
“Aleena said that too. I don’t understand. Human time is logical.”
Keeper answered firmly, “Sometimes there is no logic. Sometimes it just is. I can fix it. Where would you like to meet your parents?”
“Okay. How about back at the Giant Cedars Boardwalk? Where this all started?”
“You saw them drive away?” Keeper asked. When I nodded, he said, “I cannot take you back to before they left, because you would still be there. And it would take us a long time to walk. Choose someplace closer.”
Maddy spoke up. “Josh, you know that roadside pull-off where we stop on the way home, where we can just see Banff? Could we meet them there?”
“But what if they don’t stop? And what about those Shadows in the back seat? And that was two days ago!”
“The troll makes trouble magic,” Keeper said. “I make fixing magic. When you come, the Shadows will go. What time?”
I gave up. “Okay.” I thought about Dad’s schedule, and Mom’s magic places. “How about when our parents stop at the Bow Valley Viewpoint, last Wednesday. The last Wednesday in July,” I said, looking at Keeper. When he nodded, I kept going. “Around 3:30. No, a little earlier. We should get there first.”
“How will you get us there without being seen?” Maddy asked.
“We will not cross the veil until we are nearby. Humans will not see us.”
He hoisted us onto his shoulders and we set off down the mountain. We swayed with him, ducking to avoid branches, listening to chipmunks scolding. We stopped for a drink when we came to a stream, then followed it downhill.
When we reached the Bow River, Keeper lowered us to the ground and waded into the water. When we didn’t follow him, he turned and gestured. “Come. We need to go down the river.”
“What?” Maddy and I both squeaked.
“It’s too cold,” I said, shocked.
Keeper smiled. “It is a lovely afternoon for a swim.”
Maddy and I just shivered. “It’s too cold for us,” I insisted.
Keeper stepped back to shore and looked down at us. “I will keep you warm.” Then he leaned down and blew. His breath surrounded us like a feather-soft blanket. Instead of vanishing, the air settled around us in a cocoon of warmth.
Then Keeper took our hands and led us into the river. I could feel the water rushing by my legs, soaking my clothes, but the cold couldn’t penetrate the barrier Keeper had wrapped around me.
As the water tried to sweep us away, Keeper grabbed us, lay down on the water, and pulled us onto his chest. And that’s how we floated down the Bow River, draped across Keeper’s chest, legs dangling behind as the current carried us downstream.
“Hey, Josh,” said Maddy, giggling, “you said you wanted to go rafting this summer. Bet you didn’t think it would be like this!”
I laughed, thinking of all the rafts we’d watched floating down the Bow River in Calgary.
After a while I could see Mount Rundle, a wedge of rock slicing into the sky. I knew Banff sat at the base of Rundle, and that we could see both from the Banff Viewpoint. But we weren’t close enough yet.
“In the human world there are lakes here,” said Keeper, lifting his head slightly to look at us. “In the magic world the river winds back and forth. We can float downstream to near the doorway.”
When Mount Rundle was as tall as I remembered it from the Banff Viewpoint, Keeper swam us to shore. We stepped out into a marsh, soft and muddy underfoot. We squished past cattails and reeds, birds flying up around us. The air was fresh and cold, with a sweet smell like crushed rosemary.
Walking ahead of me, Maddy suddenly stopped and turned with her face scrunched up. “Ewwww. What is that disgusting smell?”
I stepped closer and it hit me too. The fresh sweet air was suddenly filled with the stench of rotten eggs.
Keeper turned and smiled. “Here,” he said, and he led us around an open patch of water. He pointed to the water nearest a hillside; the surface was covered in grey-and-white slime, with leaves floating on top.
“Oh, that’s really gross,” I said.
Keeper laughed. “Warm water comes from inside the earth.”
Maddy and I bent down and touched the water.
“Hey, it really is warm,” Maddy said. “But why?”
“It’s a hot spring,” I said, finally understanding. “Just like in Banff. Remember how much it stinks there?”
“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.