The second part is finally here, focusing on Tristan's first meeting with Arram Draper.

Edited for correction: thanks Kitty!

Part 2: University

Even before the first day started, Tristan knew of his name. He heard it echo like some incessant whisper amongst the brightly robed scholars, heard the name pass from lip to lip in silent revere.

Tristan was indifferent at first. He had so much learning and magic to look forward to, so much potential waiting for him inside those majestic walls. He had left the safe closure of his village for this place of learning. He left his mother's twinkling eyes, his father's scholarly ways, and the maids' fusses just to be here, to be where all the great mages are gathered. There was a smell of glory and change in the air, and Tristan knew that his life was going to be very different from this moment onwards. He strode down the white courtyard with its neat stone pavement, viewing his home for the next five years with appreciation. He was going to achieve great things here, he thought to himself. That the University of Carthak accepted him at the age of sixteen proved he had talent. He was determined to do great things, to be recognized and known for his accomplished feats.

Then he found out there was already a school legend. A youth. A scholar. A mage. And he too was sixteen.

Tristan played the name in his head, rolling it silently with his tongue as if to test it for some hidden key, hidden charisma, anything out of the ordinary that he failed to notice. He could not think of any.

Arram.

What did he accomplish so great that his name was known throughout the university? How was it that something so regular sounding as 'Arram' could come out exotic and striking from the mouths of others?

Perplexed, Tristan turned the corner from the courtyard to find a large crowd gathered around a water fountain some feet away from him. Scholars in coloured robes nudged and pushed each other to see something that was apparently every exciting, for he could hear waves of eager murmurs. Curious, Tristan approached quietly, straining his neck to see. Although he was tall for his age, some of the bystanders were obviously nearing their twenties and Tristan was no match against their broad shoulders and towering frames. Pushing through the gaps, he found a spot where he could see clearly.

A youth dressed in dark brown robes stood before him, perched on the rim of the fountain. Feet planted firmly for balance, his back was poised in a stance of deep focus. Tristan's interest increased a notch when he saw that the youth was blindfolded. Dark locks fell messily around the cloth that bound his face, making the only feature visible his mouth, which was currently set in a firm line of concentration.

Tristan wondered who he was, and what he was about to do.

He didn't wonder for long. Someone from his left threw a pebble high into the air. Tristan tilted his head, watching the black stone rise. It halted for a split second on its highest peak, and then plummeted back towards the pool.

The blindfolded youth made a wild gesture with his hands, and a sudden spray of water leaped from the fountain into the air. It hit the stone precisely and spat it out towards the crowd. There was a loud cheer at the same instant that someone threw a second stone.

The youth made another gesture, and another spray of water leaped into the air. Again it hit the falling stone with force so that the pebble's course was redirected towards the audience. It seemed that the objective of the game was to stop the pebbles from falling into the water.

Several more scholars took turns to throw stones into the air. They did it with different strengths, in different directions, but each time the youth managed to thwart the stones successfully.

Tristan no longer watched the pebbles. Instead he studied the youth's face, his hands, the effortless way he summoned water to his will. There was no doubt he had immense power; to manipulate water and give it strength and precision enough to move a fast-falling object was difficult, and to do it blindfolded…

Someone shouted from amidst the cheers and applauses. Tristan strained his ears.

'Arram, get down and stop showing off,' a male scholar said tartly, though his voice was thick with laughter. 'The fountain will be dry by the time you're done with it.'

A few people laughed. Tristan did not hear it. He stared at the blindfolded figure before him. So this was the famous Arram.

That explained everything.

Presently Arram turned towards the youth who called out. He did not take off his blindfold but his mouth curled into a wide grin. 'Not until someone catch me out,' he called out.

Tristan heard a loud, theatrical sigh. 'All right then,' the same youth spoke, and to someone else he said, 'he'll be there all day unless you fight dirty.'

So saying, he threw a handful of stones into the air. There were too many to count, and the watchers chuckled when they heard Arram curse under his breath.

With a grand wave of his hand, dozens of water sprouts erupted from behind him as he called the water upwards. The air shimmered with black fire when he flung his arms wide. The lines of water hit the descending stones, sending them showering to land everywhere but the fountain.

It was then that Tristan saw with clarity, that one of the stone was going to land in the pool. Arram could not have noticed; the stones were too many and fell too fast. Without thinking Tristan raised his hand. A stream of yellow fire rushed from his fingers towards the stone. It engulfed the pebble completely, and then made it shatter into a thousand minuscule pieces that, with a slight breeze, drifted away from the fountain like a cloud of dust.

People craned their necks to see who had intruded with the game. Tristan felt curious eyes on him and began to feel uneasy. Before anyone could say anything, Arram took the blindfold off. He seemed puzzled for a second as he scanned the crowd beneath him. Then his dark, searching eyes stopped on Tristan.

Tristan looked back solemnly. They were both sixteen of age, yet he was just starting university when the other had obviously been here for much longer. Tristan wondered at what age Arram was accepted.

Arram's eyes flickered in interest as he looked the stranger over. Then his face broke into a smile.

'Hello. I believe you just helped me win the game.' He jumped from the rim and landed before Tristan. On ground, he was half a head taller. He extended his hand.

'Arram Draper,' he said pleasantly.

Tristan took his hand without hesitation. There was something about the youth that held him in wonder. It was not so much of the talk surrounding the boy already that compelled Tristan to like him, but coming face-to-face, he could clearly see the reasons that made Arram exceptional. Intellect and strength was evident in his eyes, and though he was rather thin, there was a substantial cloak of potential in his movement. Admiration, awe and just a touch of envy made Tristan decide then, that he would do whatever it takes to be what Arram had achieved.

'Tristan Staghorn,' he replied, gripping the offered hand. Unconsciously the two youth sized each other up before breaking into a somewhat sheepish grin.