Outlanders

Chapter 2: Runaway

In a farming village in the northeastern taiga, snow fell in a halfhearted drizzle. A few creatures skulked through the thin forestry.

From one of the huts, a scratchy shrill destroyed the tranquility.

"Petrus!" came a shout.

Seventy-five yards away, a pale, willowy, black-haired teenage boy cowered alone in a tree thicket. His fingers were stiff and shaking, his nerves tingled with adrenaline, and tears of panic dripped from his eyes. He had known for years that this day would come, but, now that it had, he could not believe it had come so soon.

"Petrus!" cried that voice again. "Petrus, get over here right now!"

Petrus stayed where he was hidden. Long ago, he had learned that it was unwise to be near his mother when she was enraged.

Petrus watched as his mother burst out of a distant hut, her eyes furiously scanning the village. With practiced slowness, Petrus backed out of the thicket, then started away from his pursuer. He gave no thought to where he was going. All he knew was that he could not take another beating.

Petrus settled into a gully and sloshed down the punishingly cold stream, throwing up splashes of icy river water.

"Petrus!" came another shout, closer this time.

Turning around, Petrus saw his mother standing on the bank of the river, her eyes bloodshot and her teeth gnashing.

Petrus' mind raced.

"What is this?" roared his mother, holding up a giant book. "I found this buried next to your bed!"

She threw it down onto the bank, and Petrus quickly snatched it up. The thick book was unharmed.

Petrus breathed a sigh of relief. This was no ordinary tome; it was an encyclopedia of necromancy- one of five that existed in the world.

"I always knew you were corrupt," his mother growled, smiling wickedly. "I knew you had sold your soul to that witch for something."

"No!" he blathered. "Necromancers don't sell souls! And that witch took me in when no one else would. And you... you murdered her! For what? What could I... what did... no. No, this is it, mom. I have an Ether Lance and a suicide spell prepared. If you chase me..."

Petrus faltered, gathering the nerve to finish his sentence.

"...if you chase me, one of us will die."

His mother growled, staring down at the audacious creature before her. This was it. He had crossed the line too many times. She reached behind her and drew a hatchet. Hunching her shoulders, she stomped slowly down into the stream.

Petrus braced himself for a fight.

He incanted, "Summon spell: Ether-Lance. Conduit, transfer: finger eta. Ether-Lance, assign: finger zeta. Ether-Lance, group transfer finger: theta, iota kappa. Assign trigger, group: all: kiai."

Petrus whispered this under his breath, struggling to keep his words straight as he backpedaled. Then he tried the spell. Crouching, he cradled his book in his left hand and thrust his right palm forward.

He closed his fingers and barked, "Cast!"

His vocalization triggered his spell, and an iridescent black cloud puffed out from his palm. It drifted harmlessly away.

Petrus gasped as he realized his mistake.

Emboldened, Petrus' mother rushed after him, swinging her ax and burying it into the frosty sludge in front of him.