The Third Portal: Chapter Forty-Two

“Something worth considering – I can make better use of additive benefits than most,” I pointed out. “The kirin spell creates synergies, even when they’re not there. Could it create a synergy between the ghostmind spell and the timemind treasure?” 

Ikki looked at me for a moment, silently contemplating, then nodded. 

“It seems likely, yes. I cannot claim to understand the spell, but that seems fairly straightforward and plausible. For now, we should practice with your new spells.” 

We continued our training for several more hours, with me actually burning an additional charge of the complex spell Ikki had left for me in order to keep training for longer, before I had to go back to working on the array. 

I was pulled – partially – from the array work the following week when Orykson appeared. He actually teleported directly into Dusk, which caused me to jerk in surprise. 

“You just about gave me a heart attack!” I said, wiping the sweat from my brow. “How did you get in? Did you just punch through the defenses?”

“I knocked on the door of Dusk, asking to be let in. She is growing more adept with wielding her legacy and dominion,” he stated calmly. “I suspect it’s a side effect of her planting the purestar and lushloam seeds. They strengthen and connect her realm, which is what both legacy, truth, and dominion are woven through.” 

“Oh.” 

“I could have punched through,” he added helpfully. “But it would have been terribly rude.”

“Of course it would have,” I groused. “Are you here to teach? Look over the array? Call in a favor? All of the above? None?” 

“No favor to be called in yet, but I am here for the other two,” Orykson said, striding over to the array. 

His eyes glowed with the calm blueish-white light that made up Aerde’s body, and he traced a few lines in the air. Aerde manifested in miniature on his shoulder, trailing light as his nodes flashed in a rhythmic pattern. Within my mind, where the flowerlike packet of information that Aerde had created to guide me through healing Kene sat, new information started to trickle in. After the pair finished, Orykson turned to me. 

“The enchanter you’ve worked with to settle some of this is competent enough. You’ve made good progress, and should have it finished before too terribly long. There are a few minor mistakes, which we’ve updated to include..”

“Will it be enough? To help Kene, I mean.”

“On its own? It might be. There are several treasures for sale here with minor beneficial effects of their own, which should likely serve to push him over the edge.” 

“Might be? Can’t you just calculate if it will or won’t work?” 

“No,” he responded flatly, before elaborating. “The materials you are using are old, and even if they were the best quality of their era, that era is long ago. The potions you’ve boiled down are highly concentrated, and will strain the components. Half a dozen of the components you’re incorporating were created by people with rare or even unique crafting legacies that allow them to bend or break normal enchanting rules. On top of that, Kene’s spiritual receptiveness to the strengthening is a factor. It strengthens the same amount each run, but if their receptiveness is low, it will strain the components more.”

“Okay, I get that,” I agreed. “Can you ballpark it? Is there any sort of general answer as to how I’ll know if it’s enough or not?” 

“If Kene has perfect compatibility and puts zero strain on the components – which is impossible, mind you – then you have enough fuel to activate the new array a maximum of five times. That would be ideal, and would put them well above the level of soul strength needed. At its maximum realistic strain, the array’s magic will shatter after two uses. If that happens, then you’ll be in trouble, and need to seek out some other, stronger methods.” 

“What about three or four?” 

“Four would put them right on the border of the threshold. If they consumed some golden soul elixir or other soul-strengthening treasures, they could be comfortably over that line. Three wouldn’t be as dire as two, but it would require a significant expenditure of resources.” 

“I see,” I said, thinking over the implications. “That’s good to know. Thank you.”

“Fair is fair,” Orykson agreed. “You paid me well for my help. You’re making good progress, so unless you have any further questions, we should move onto training.” 

“No questions, I’m good to train”

Orykson extended a sheet of paper to me, and I looked the spell over. It seemed to be a meta spell, but one of the largest meta spells I’d seen. Trying to trace over the array and discern what it did, I thought I could see it interacting with the weave of space, but also elements of teleportation. It seemed to be focused on teleporting something very specific, though, not like Seven League Step or Transport Item. 

“Teleport Spatial Weave?” I guessed. 

“Not a bad guess,” Orykson said, nodding his approval. “The spell is commonly called Reposition Anchor. It allows you to teleport a Spatial Anchor, Captured Moment, Shadow Pin, or several other types of common anchor.”

“That’s going to pair amazingly with my Converge Echo spell,” I said, letting out a low whistle. “I can spin up a temporary anchor, teleport it behind someone, then release the echoes. What’s its imbued effect?” 

“It reduces the cost of anchor spells, something that I’ve no doubt you’ll find useful,” Orykson said, a wry smile on his face. “Not the flashiest power, but dependable. But I fear you’re underestimating the utility of the spell – as a plant mage, you can summon your pants through Dusk, but it’s easiest to channel them through you, or near you. With a proper anchor…”

Boneshards appeared behind me and gently whacked me in the back of the head, illustrating a point.

We spent a while practicing with the spell, teleporting anchors around him to release waves of plants from every angle, mixing in magical echoes and material echoes. It burnt a lot of mana to release six attacks from six directions at once, but the high cost came with an equally high effectiveness. 

After we finished, Orykson had me practice the Hiding Spider veiling spell, drawing all of my power into my beastcore and making it take more effort to reach. Orykson was able to find me without issue, but even he had to admit that it did make it more difficult, and synergized with the rest of my beast magic and mobility. 

Foxswap came after that. For right now, it was best used to switch places with allies, like exchanging places with Dusk in the middle of a fight, or else swapping Dusk with a large stone, but I was able to forcibly change places with Orykson veiled down to low-third gate. 

It drained my mana by the bucket full, as the wily old mage had more than ample experience resisting forced teleportation spells, but I was able to do it. I wasn’t planning to pull it off all the time, but it could be a lifesaver in the right situation. 

When we finished, Orykson extended another sheet of paper, which I took. 

“Surprised you didn’t have me practicing with both at once,” I said, and he shook his head. 

“Look over the spell. It’s not a combat spell, but rather, a practical one.” 

I eyed the spell on the sheet. It was a strange spell, complex, but not especially large, just… dense. It also seemed to be aligned with the weave of space, and… Harvesting. It was a harvesting spell. When I said so, Orykson agreed and started explaining. 

“You get a great deal of use out of Harvest Distance, which is an excellent spell. But it isn’t the only spatial harvesting spell out there. This is what most spatial mages learn, though since the library cleared Harvest Distance for public use, it is starting to grow in popularity.” 

“How does it work?” I asked, tilting my head. “Is it just a higher gate version of the same spell?” 

“No. This spell plucks at the threads of the spatial weave to generate, and then absorb, spatial energy. The more disturbed the threads, the more spatial energy it can gather. As such, it’s commonly used to help restore a bit of mana after teleporting. The Harvest Distance spell worked on the disturbances caused by physical matter, which is… novel. Gregor might have been a fool, but even a broken clock is right twice a day.” 

I was a bit surprised that Orykson had known the dead spell designer that the Library had gotten Harvest Distance from, at least for a moment, before I immediately lost any sense of surprise. Of course he had.

“Oooh, that should pair very nicely with Harvest Distance’s abilities,” I said. “And it might even be partially consumed by Foxstep.”

“I doubt it – roots are powerful, but not the end-all-be-all. Still, it’s possible. Now, before I depart, I would like to analyze Dawn one more time.” 

I fired off a stream of thoughts to Dawn, who was currently curled up on a rock, sunning herself. She assented and started flying over. 

“Sure, but mind if I ask why?” I asked, 

“The ability to fully enter another person’s mana-garden – and I do mean fully, not just project an image as with Analyze Mana-Garden – is exceedingly rare,” Orykson explained. “There are certain spiritual parasites that are capable of it, like spelltheives, who do it through the use of a legacy. Hag magic can infect a soul and corrupt it from the inside out. There are high gate death magic spells that can manage full entry.”

“Alright,” I said, nodding. “I get that it’s rare. You’re analyzing the spell again?” 

“I am,” Orykson agreed. “Because that’s not all her spell does. She’s capable of fusing her dominion with your spirit while she’s in your mana-garden, as she’s fully there, and I suspect it will have further interactions with her Dragon’s Breath and other spells when she advances.” 

“Again, I get that it’s rare, but why?” 

Orykson shot a glare at me, then sighed. 

“There’s a type of spirit bee, known as a spirit-hive,” he said. “They’re a single collective spirit that borders on being a natural treasure, as the wax they produce can be used within a mana-garden for repairing damage to spells that have been strained, and the honey can be used as a restorative elixir with very low mana toxicity. Not only that, but they have a strong tendency to restore and repair natural magical arrays they’re found within.”

“Oh, like paperbeetles! Twenty bodies, but one spirit, and useful for creating elixirs. But these produce the elixir themselves. And also they eat books. But a similar sort of spirit, in a general sense at least.”

“Somewhat, yes. What I am trying to do is alter the mana matrix and spirits of these bees to have a similar ability. If they could rest within a person’s spirit, providing constant maintenance to their spells, as well as a steady source of wax and honey, it would be quite a boon.”

“Everyone would want one. Everyone who uses spells would clamor for that kind of benefit.”

“Nothing so dramatic. There is the matter of sourcing, rearing, and garden compatibility. But it would be useful, yes.”

We spent a little longer talking about the process, as Orykson studied Dawn’s unique magic, trying to untangle its mysteries and work on ways to adapt the power to the spirit bees. I mostly just bounced ideas off him – Ephemeral Mana Beehive, Menderbees, Nesting Doll Beehive – until he got annoyed, then I departed to work on the array.