§089 Cazenac

In the past, Taylor had always planted a runner from his portal trees on a newly-closed rift. He didn't close them completely, but left an underground chamber where the mana could accumulate. The tree fed from the mana pool and reached out its roots for home, in the Other Place. All the portal trees were, in fact, the same tree, springing up from the roots of the first one he planted on a hilltop in the wilder parts of Estfold. It was little more than an idea when he started, something interesting to try. He didn't know the Other Place would grow so large, or that it would be so malleable to his whims.

Mount Uroda needed to be handled differently. A tree wouldn't flourish inside the mountain's core, a place with no soil, water, or sun. So instead, and with Wen-Uroda's permission, Taylor erected a stela of stone, carved from the Other Place's mountain. Its center was a rod of mana-tempered alloy made of silver, mithril, and a few rarer things that would conduct a wide range of mana types between the worlds. Taylor planted it in Uroda's heart, reached out to the Other Place, and pulled a part of it toward himself until the two realms touched each other at the stela. He fixed it there by hauling streams of mana from the still-open vent into the Other Place. A cave formed underground, and the distant world grew a little larger. The stela existed in two places at once: inside a mountain in Aarden, and a cave in the Other Place.

Even then, Taylor's work was far from done. He reshaped the rift to make it easier to manage, and surrounded it with layers of magic circles. Some ensured the flow was purified of any corruption, while others allowed the mana to be redirected. By default, all the mana went to the stone column, which directed it into the Other Place, to help grow his pocket dimension.

Other aspects of the control diagram were meant to be connected to more complex circles in the future. The idea was to power Alchemy systems and turn the mountain into a refinery. There were logistical issues galore to sort out, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. The spirits needed a long-term supply of weapons, more than Taylor could buy on the open market, and Wen-Uroda was willing to lend her magnificent mana supply and help tap the lava chamber below. They needed smiths and other workers, and those workers had to be housed and fed. It would be a while before they made their first ingot of iron, much less a sword or spearhead.

Finally, if not all the mana was being used by the refinery or the Other Place, it overflowed into a series of Alchemy circles that grew mana crystals. Taylor set up alarms to detect irregularities, secured the area in a Zone of Forbiddance to keep out the IEF, and departed for home.

Getting home was a simple matter of folding space between his twin stelae to arrive in a cave in the Other Place. From there, he climbed to the surface and entered his portal park, where golden poplars played a similar role to the underground portal. The park was decorated with statues, playground equipment, and odd decorations that felt out of place for a forest. But each item was a landmark. Taylor found one tree in particular, next to a seesaw, and used it to move to a matched one in Aarden.

Months prior, Taylor had planted one of his special poplars near Midway. It was well outside of city limits, nestled against a stream among similar trees, half an hour away by horse. From stela to stela, then tree to tree, he traveled hundreds of miles in minutes.

When Taylor arrived, Kasper and Blake were waiting for him with their horse, Tristan, who was loaded for a fishing expedition.

"You look tired," Blake told him. It was uncommonly generous of him to spend three whole words on something non-essential.

"It's been a busy time. Anything I need to know about?"

"Ophelia arrives in a month."

A stupid grin spread over Taylor's face, one he was glad nobody could see behind his mask. "She accepted my offer. That's good," he said too casually. "So, about this trip. Has Kasper told you about the Other Place?"

"No." Blake squinted at Kasper.

"It's a secret. Sorry," grinned the pup. Even though they were human, Blake and Cook had officially adopted the wolfkin boy. He didn't say so, but Blake didn't seem to mind the boy keeping secrets, at least when those secrets belonged to Taylor.

After explaining what was about to happen, Taylor took them into the Other Place and let them explore the portal park for a while. There were plenty of other features in the miniature world: a hot spring, a mountain with a twin mountain suspended above it in a mirror image, a forest of giant mushrooms, a river that flowed in circles, and more. But they didn't have time to explore it all. They had a train to catch.

From a tree next to a stone carving of a feather, they emerged an hour's ride from a remote town in Rossignol. The town had a whistlestop station where they caught the northbound train. It wasn't Kasper's first train ride, but he nonetheless spent a good fraction of it with his head stuck out of the window.

"It's not as fast as I thought it would be," he complained. "Tristan can go this fast."

"Not for hours on end," Taylor reminded him, "and not with three people on his back." Tristan, meanwhile, enjoyed his ride in the animal car.

After a few hours, they disembarked at a town called Cazenac. According to Taylor's information, a former midwife had retired to the priory there, possibly the same one who was present at Taylor's birth. If she were the right midwife, and she was still alive and alert, then maybe she could answer his questions.

The town clung to a stone hillside overlooking a wide, slow river. Blocky buildings climbed the hill in steps, with restaurants and other common areas near the water, two layers of mostly residences after that, and a few large buildings on the crest of the hill. Yellowish cut stone was the preferred material, topped with green tile shingles.

Building a town on a hillside seemed strange at first, but it made sense when Taylor looked across the river at the expanse of verdant fields, early in their growing season. The locals chose not to dig up such rich land to put down a mass of roads and stores.

There were beastkin everywhere. Looking around, Taylor saw several arcs and a few dwarves, but he and Blake might be the only humans in town. They asked for directions to the Busted Wheel, their lodgings for the next few days.

"Out of towners, huh?" Their helper was a bushkin, a large-eyed, bat-eared humanoid with powerful legs and a tail. She appraised the wolfkin pup. "Are you here for the battle holiday?"

Kasper's eyes shone. "Battle … holiday?" He turned his sparkly gaze on Taylor.

"We don't yet know what that is."

Kasper turned to the bushkin. "What's a battle holiday? Where is it? When is it? Who can fight? Can I fight? I want to fight!"

The bushkin laughed. She was only a little taller than Kasper, but she patted him on the head. "It's something we do when the planting season ends. Actually, we have one every season, and twice in winter. Preliminaries to find your bracket are tomorrow morning at the arena. Follow this road south. See where it bends around the hill? Just keep going, and you can't miss it."

"And the Busted Wheel?" asked Taylor. 

The bushkin lady pointed up, to the level above them. "You're right under it. Hope you like stairs." The bushkin hopped away in long bounds. Stairs would never be a problem for someone who could move like that.

"Did you catch all that, Blake?"

"No." The conversation had been in Arcaic, but Blake's skill with the language didn't even qualify as rudimentary. He'd been studying, but to learn a language, one needed to speak it. And Blake wasn't big on talking.

They found the Busted Wheel: it was the wide, two-story building with a giant broken wheel attached to the front. The downstairs was for reception, drinking, and dining, while the upstairs had the rooms. They checked in and, like almost anywhere in the empire, received a stack of foldable postcards with printed letterhead for the inn. Taylor penned a message to the priory, located on top of the hill, letting them know he had arrived and asking for an appointment, but not during the Battle Holiday. There might not be an evening delivery in Cazenac, so the message might not arrive at the priory until the next day. Taylor probably wouldn't have an answer until past noon.

With dusk approaching, the three visitors did what they came here to do: go fishing. They went down to a pier where boats bobbed in the water, pulled the sailboat from Taylor's satchel, and pointed it upstream. It was a little crowded with all three of them, but that didn't make the journey any less fun. 

Taylor had refined his trick of propelling the boat with wind magic. Instead of blowing air into the sail, he sent the air across the sail and focused on lowering the pressure on the convex side of the sheet. They traveled quickly and found a likely spot to put in by a shore littered with fallen logs. As the sun went down, they flicked their lines tipped with Blake's artful flies and pulled several kinds of fish from the river, mostly crappie and catfish but also a few varieties he didn't know. Every time they changed flies or position, they caught something new. The trio kept the ones they wanted to eat and gave the rest back to the river.

Taylor's class, always present no matter how much he ignored it, logged the events.

Title awarded: [Traveling Angler I] Catch at least fifty species of fish in ten zones.

One day, when he wasn't building magic systems and trying to change the world, Taylor thought he might like pursuing the angler titles. What could be better than fishing all over the world, just because he felt like it?

For tonight, they ate fish cooked over a campfire before heading downriver by starlight.

They found the arena early in the morning, its stone walls soaking up the morning sun. It was perfectly round, with tiers of bleachers and a floor of packed clay. At three stories tall, it was far from the grandest arena Taylor had ever seen, but it was large enough for all the citizens of Cazenac plus visitors from the surrounding area who came to watch and participate. There was a span of flat land extending south from the arena, and dozens of tents sprang up as visiting competitors arrived.

Admittance was free, and entering to fight cost only one dori, a small silver piece. Kasper registered and then tried to pull Taylor into the fray, too.

"Can humans play, too? My brother is the strongest!"

The amused catkin man looked Taylor up and down. "You got a class, son?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I'm sorry, you can't compete."

"But that's not fair!" complained Kasper.

"It's fine, Kasper, really. This is a contest of personal strength and ability. With classes in play, you can never be sure if someone won because of their own strength, or Knexenk's."

"But I wanted to see you fight." He was cute when he pouted, provided it didn't go on for very long.

"I'll be rooting for you. You got your lunch?" Kasper showed off the box lunch they had purchased on the way over. "Go find your pool. Make friends. We'll be watching."

Despite his disappointment, Kasper couldn't wait to find his first competitors. He ran off, tail and ears high, to find his assigned group while Taylor and Blake staked out a good spot in the bleachers. They pulled cushions from their bags to soften the seats, and bought snacks from passing vendors while the bleachers filled.

One day, if Taylor had his way, beastkin would be able to take classes. When that happened, what would they do about their no-classes rule on battle holidays?

The first bouts were informal and unannounced. Each pool of eight competitors had its own ring in the arena and fought each other for ranked places within their group under the supervision of a fierce-looking adult.

Among children his own age, Kasper dominated. Secretly, Taylor was relieved when he didn't seriously hurt anyone else. His wrestling moves were swift and smart, and he could both dodge a blow and take a hit. But he could get carried away sometimes, usually when Taylor was pressing him harder than usual. Against nine and ten-year-old beastkin, he was able to hold himself in check. At the end of the pool bouts, Kasper was ranked with teenagers whose size and reach could counter his skill.

Just before the real tournament was about to begin, a blue and silver object appeared in the sky. People in the stands pointed to the sky, and all heads turned. It grew in size until everyone could recognize the shape of a gryphon. Taylor reached into his satchel to grasp his sword, just in case. If that was who he thought it was … 

The creature folded its wings and plummeted from the sky in a spectacular dive, growing larger and larger. It flared its wings just in time to keep from crashing onto the floor of the arena. Unlike when she had landed in Mourne, Silvain didn't do any damage to the arena other than leave a few claw marks. The stands exploded with cheers, which the great spirit acknowledged with waves of her wingtips.

The gryphon paced to the edge of the arena, shrinking and changing shape as she went. By the time she mounted the steps into the bleachers, she was an arc with sky blue hair and silver eyes, dressed in the simple tunic so favored by beastkin.

Taylor stood cautiously, hand still on his sword. Why was she coming straight toward him?

"Who's that?" Blake's eyes searched for Kasper among the crowded competitors.

"The great spirit Silvain. It's probably okay." At this point, she owed him for rescuing Wen-Uroda, and spirits were generally friendly toward him. Then again, their last in-person meeting had been very confrontational.

"But you're not sure."

"Good heavens, Blake. You're so chatty today."

The groundskeeper shrugged off the comment and kept his eye on Kasper. If, for some reason, they had to run, he knew his first job was to reach the wolfkin boy. Young Master would handle anything truly dangerous.