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  When he reached the gates to the University, Ferrich exited the litter, paying the bearers a liberal amount of gold. The stocky bare-chested litter-bearers grinned in excitement when they saw the flash of gold drop into their hands. Ferrich had always liked to show a little more generosity toward the working class than his fellow nobles. It was true that Ferrich regarded his servants more as well loved pets than fellow human beings, but the gold he gave out helped to assuage any feelings of inequality his subordinates may have felt.

  The University was the largest on the continent, with branches of learning that spanned more subjects than any one man could ever hope to learn. Most of the country lords sent their children to the University for a couple of years to teach them their numbers and the basics of governing their estates. It was rare that a man of his age still went to the university to continue studying. Most nobles lost interest in their studies shortly after their twentieth birthday. The teachers were appointed by the Seeker, a man whom it was said had the ability to find those who had a gift for educating those who would be the rulers of the people. The title of Seeker was a hereditary one, passed on to the son or daughter once the descendant came into an understanding of their gift.

  Ferrich had chosen a branch of study that was frowned on by the other departments and avoided by most people of good repute. He had chosen to study the Arcane Arts when he was just twelve. He had been fascinated by the stories of what the ancients had been able to do with the power that was said to have disappeared at the end of the Great Civilization. When the time came that his peers began leaving the University for the more interesting game of politics, he decided to continue studying the Arcane Arts.

  Ferrich walked through the enormous gates that were held in place by two giant statues, one a demon of amazing detail, the other a studious-looking human pondering the heavens as one of his arms held the gate upright. Ferrich did not even notice the enormous tributes to Chaos and Progression, having seen them every day for the past twenty-five years. His attention was focused on the questions he had for Radroc, his teacher in the Arcane Arts. Radroc was considered the leading expert throughout the entire continent on the subject and if the wonders that Ferrich witnessed him accomplish were any indication, Ferrich did not doubt that it was true.

  Sighing with relief at finally reaching a part of the city not dominated by the stench of rotting garbage, Ferrich followed the road that led through the gates and into the University grounds, known as the Road of Knowledge. The road itself snaked in and out of the different departments as he made his way to the small section quarantined for study of the Arcane Arts. It was easy to see which department you were passing because they had gone to great lengths to landscape and ornament their sections with the details of their study. The Department of History had lined the road with statues of heroes and rulers whose fame had been strong enough to survive the ages. The Department of Botany and Agriculture was a mass of lush green hills that enclosed the road with a canopy of trees shading the entire stretch. Small waterfalls trickled down the side of the hills before disappearing beneath the road while benches adorned the walkways, coated in soft ground cover. The Department of Engineering and Architecture had vast fields of large-scale models. There was what appeared to be Lift Stations, with large steel counter balances running through a system of pulleys capable of lifting over twenty people at a time. There were also model buildings that were spanned with large catwalks. These looked so fragile that a light breeze should have torn them down, yet managed to support the weight of a line of people walking across them.

  Passing the last section of the Department of Engineering and Architecture, Ferrich entered the grounds for Arcane Arts. The road that he had been following made a sharp bend and continued around the Department of Engineering and Architecture and on to the other departments, while a small side road led to the building that housed the offices of the Department of Arcane Arts. There was nothing notable about the section where the Department of Arcane Arts was located, certainly nothing to suggest the nature of this building. It would have gone unnoticed by most people traveling the Road of Knowledge, appearing to be no more than a service building. Its physical location reflected perfectly the attitude with which the other departments regarded it: as something that should be out of sight and unremarkable in appearance. If the truth were known, the only reason that the Department of Arcane Arts had been allowed its continued existence was that each President of the University had rejected each demand from the other department heads to close it down.

  Ferrich walked into the entry hall of the small building. The inside of the building did little to change the first impression. There were several sitting chairs scattered throughout a room that was obviously not well maintained. Dust had collected on the sitting tables next to the chairs that were in varying stages of disrepair and many of the doors that led to other rooms looked old enough to have rotted at the hinges. This part of the building was what was known as the Hot Square, achieving its name from the high turnover rate of students that entered the class thinking to learn magic tricks and leaving when they learned that it was an abstract subject with very little application. The head of the department did not even allow students into the lower chambers deep beneath the ground until their fifth year. The founder of the University had discovered that once you drop beneath a certain depth in the earth, you could sense the power that the planet emanated, and to some degree use it. An enormous shield surrounded the underground chambers in case something went wrong when a student was working with yara. The deeper into the earth you went, the more a person could sense and use yara.

  Making his way over to the door that led down into the Pit, as those who knew of it called it, Ferrich began his descent down the spiraling cylinder that led down to Radroc's office. Occasionally, Ferrich would pass a door that led to another classroom, the stone molding to form a cave so natural that a stranger would never suspect the entire subterranean chamber had been cut out using yara. The stairway continued its descent into the ground for several thousand feet, hugging the side of the rough hewn wall as it wound down into the depths of the earth. Ferrich reached the point absolutely devoid of light, forcing him to rely completely on his yar to navigate his way down the steep decline. A half an hour later, he could feel the bottom getting closer, because the presence of yara pulsed around him stronger than any place above ground. It had only been the previous year that Radroc had accepted Ferrich as a pupil, allowing him to enter the lowest reaches of the Pit. Ferrich still felt a sense of pride at the honor. Radroc had taught very few students himself; the last one was old enough to be Ferrich’s grandfather.

  As Ferrich reached the lowest floor and started toward the door that led to Radroc's office, he felt a sense of foreboding. Always before, Ferrich had felt Radroc's presence burning strongly when he reached the bottom of the Pit. Now, as he knocked on the door leading to Radroc's office, he felt absolutely nothing. Feeling a chill run down his spine, Ferrich hesitantly opened the door and called out.

  "Radroc?” Ferrich listened for any indication that someone was in the underground chambers, sensing nothing with his yar. Moving deeper into the room, Ferrich reached out with his yar and created light in the chamber that permeated the room so that he could see with his eyes.

  Ferrich let out a startled yell and stumbled back to the door. At the end of the room, Radroc hung from the ceiling by his entrails, swinging slowly back and forth. His face wore a grimace of pain that framed eyes that were already filmed over with death. There was blood everywhere, as if a murderous lunatic had painted the walls with it. Ferrich felt his stomach heave and hurriedly bent over to empty its contents next to the door. His mind reeled at the scene before him. Who would do this? Ferrich thought furiously. He reached out with his yar to pull his old mentor down from the ceiling, being able to use yara at this depth in the earth as an aid. Ferrich felt his second shock as his yar passed through the body of Radroc without touching him. Bewildered, Ferrich slowly walke
d over to the hanging form and reached out with his hand. It passed right through the gruesome shade without meeting any resistance.

  Looking cautiously around the room, Ferrich began searching for anything out of the ordinary. He had never been in this room with light, having been required to sense it with his yar. The room seemed much smaller to his physical eyes, as they were limited to three-dimensional sensory. The granite chair that sat next to the wall to his right looked like a rough hewn piece of rock, rather than an object that he and some of his more dedicated predecessors had been taught to mold into a comfortable sitting chair with their yar. The four dimensional pictures that sat in niches on the wall seemed like nothing more than odd sculptures that had been created by a crazed mind, yet Ferrich knew that feeling these four dimensional pictures with your yar produced many of the sensations that common art did, only to a much greater extent. The first picture in the wall, known as a Froghnedian, was an intricate detailed reflection of the bond that flesh and spirit shared. The sacredness of life that it inspired and the majesty of existence left the senses reeling in awe. The rest of the room was very plain and unfurnished. Radroc had always insisted that serious training could not be conducted in a room full of clutter, especially when your yar would sense everything around you, enhancing the bombardment of foreign objects.

  The floor felt cold beneath Ferrich’s slippers, a sensation that he was not used to in this room. Frowning in thought, Ferrich began pacing between the door and the opening that led deeper into Radroc's chambers. He had never been in there, having been forbidden by Radroc with the warning that any intruder entering would cease to live the moment that they crossed the boundary. Trying to puzzle out what had happened, Ferrich tried to think of who might want to do this to Radroc. The other Department heads came to mind immediately and left just as quickly. As cold and calculating as they were, they still would not have been able to bring themselves to learn enough of the Arcane Arts to do what had been done to Radroc. Ferrich could not see them dealing with another person with the ability either; their hatred of the Arcane Arts was too strong. As renowned as Radroc was, he must have had some enemies. He had talked sparingly about those he had referred to as the Enemies of Life that had ended the Great Civilization and Ferrich had been more interested in the use of yara at the time, having just been admitted to the lower levels of the Pit. Cursing himself for nine kinds of a fool, he tried to think of what Radroc had said. Something about a Return as the planet healed. Ferrich had assumed that he was speaking of something in the distant future, not an event that would began to occur within the next year.

  He stopped pacing, staring into the inner chambers. He could not just leave them open for anyone to wander into, innocently or not. Reaching out with his yar, he immersed his awareness into the faint trace of yara that emanated up from the planet beneath him. As his yar took dominance over the passive yar of the planet, Ferrich delved into the stone around the entryway to the inner chambers, and began changing the properties within the stone into a clay-like substance, and molded a solid wall that completely sealed the inner chambers. As he began transforming the now supple earth back into hard stone, a small light appeared in the center of the wall that he had just created. Heart beating wildly, Ferrich backed away from the newly formed wall, readying his yar for whatever attack might occur. The light in the wall intensified, spinning into a square that appeared to be a real life picture of a small clearing in a large forest. In the center of the clearing stood a tree stump that was as large as a small house. The picture wavered and winked out, leaving the wall blank again.

  Ferrich stood gaping at the wall in astonishment. Did I do that? he thought in confusion. Glancing around the room uncertainly, Ferrich backed slowly toward the door. There did not seem to be anything different in the room. He turned to the door and peered out into the blackness at the bottom of the spiraling abyss. He could hear sound echoing from above him. He looked up the enormous stairway and gasped in surprise as he saw at least twenty pinpricks of light that gave off the orange glow of torches. Torches were absolutely forbidden in the Pit, disrupting the balance that had been created. Fire caused a disruption in other objects yar, making any attempt at serious study impossible.

  Wondering if the intruders were friend or foe, Ferrich looked around himself frantically, trying to find a way out, knowing that there was not. He had never been good at confrontations, always freezing up when he should act, or acting where he should freeze. In this case, Ferrich froze at the base of the long descent, watching the lights draw closer like a moth to a flame. He did not think of himself as a coward, he had just never had anything to be courageous about, and so he was unsure what occasion truly demanded courage. As the figures drew closer, he recognized the captain of the royal guard leading a detachment of soldiers.

  The captain was a large man, slightly gone to seed in his later years from more paperwork than actual physical duties. Ferrich had always rather liked him, being a man of learning that was more interested in doing things right than just what he was paid to do. They had spent many a night talking of life, philosophy, women and many other things during the man's time as a Lieutenant in the royal bodyguard. Just the same, Ferrich felt a worm of doubt writhing in his belly as he watched the old captain draw closer. Why was he down here? Had something happened at the palace?

  The guard detachment split into two columns as they reached the bottom, one filing past him to into Radroc's rooms, while the other line made a small circle around him. Ferrich decided that the situation was definitely taking a turn for the worse.

  "Captain Kerns," Ferrich began in a puzzled voice, "what's going on?" Trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice, as well as from his face, Ferrich studied his old friend carefully. Kern's face was blank, his eyes flat as he watched Ferrich dispassionately. He did not answer Ferrich, looking past Ferrich where the other soldiers had gone into Radroc's chambers. Ferrich looked over his shoulder as a soldier emerged from the small enclosure.

  The soldiers face was grim and his eyes were tinged with disgust. "He is in there all right.” Turning his head slightly, the man spit as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. "Hanging by his guts from the ceiling. Something's been done to him so that we can't touch him."

  Captain Kerns face finally showed expression. His eyes creased with grief and he shook his head in disbelief. "I had hoped that your father was wrong." He looked deeply into Ferrich’s eyes, as if there were an answer in them that he could not find elsewhere. "Why?" he asked quietly. "Why did you do it Ferrich?"

  Ferrich gaped at him incredulously. "Wait a minute! You think that I did that?" Kerns just stared at him, his eyes filled with regret. "I came down here and he was already like this. I swear it! Kerns, you believe me, don't you?"

  Captain Kerns looked away, shaking his head slowly. "When the king told me that his son had killed the head of the department of Arcane Arts, I didn't believe it." Kerns looked back at him then, his eyes hardening. "Yet here you stand, right outside the door where your father said you would be. Whom do you want me to believe?"

  Ferrich shook his head vigorously, trying to shake some of the confusion from his thoughts. His father had sent them to arrest him? How had his father known that Radroc was dead? Ferrich was not certain that he wanted to know the answer to that. "Why would I kill Radroc?" Ferrich demanded. "He is...was my friend."

  Kerns continued watching him silently for a moment, his eyes still hard. "That is what we intend to find out. We were commanded to take you to the Tower of Judgment"

  Ferrich staggered backward a step with a gasp, and one of the soldiers behind him grabbed his shoulder in a grip like a vice while another soldier bound his hands. A moment later and the soldier gagged him as well, with Captain Kerns explaining that they could not take the chance of him casting a spell on them. Before Ferrich knew what was happening, he was walking up the steep stairwell and on his way to the Tower of Judgment.

  ---

  Morindessa stood in front of t
he Fountain of Life staring at the odd procession that was trooping down the street toward the royal palace at the end of the wide street. The captain of the royal guard walked purposefully at the front of twenty armed soldiers that were herding none other than the king's eighth son, Ferrich, with his hands bound behind him and a gag in his mouth.

  Brushing a stray lock of midnight black hair back from her stunningly beautiful face, Morindessa wondered what Ferrich had done to earn his father's displeasure. She liked Ferrich more than she liked the king’s other sons. He had an innocence to him that intrigued her. Innocence was a foreign concept to Morindessa, growing up in the streets of Shalilayo where crime was just another part of life. She often wondered where she would be today, had she not been left behind in Shalilayo while her parents were selling their farm produce to the local shop vendors. She had snuck onto their rickety two wheeled cart that had been filled with potatoes, onions, beats and glar fruit, hiding on the underside of the back that she had spent the previous evening making a little pouch that was just large enough for her to slip into. She had wanted to see the city, and something as small as an order from her mother to stay on the farm and do her chores was certainly not enough of a deterrent to keep her hoeing the lettuce patch. She had always had a very casual acquaintance with rules, only following them when they did not interfere with her own interests. Rules did seem to interfere with her interests a little more than the average person, but she had a philosophy that if the rules were never broken, people might forget what they were for and everything would turn to anarchy. In reality, she was doing the civilized world a favor.