Storm Of War

by Ugo, Kachi

  They let him through without so much as a word, only glaring at him. Word of his epic failure and miserableness must have gotten home. He made to ask them if anyone had survived, but they scoffed at him.

  Downcast, Peter passed by them and the several other groups of Woodfolks until he got to the Great Wall, where Delphina stood waiting for him.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled at him as he came through the walkway.

  Peter ignored her and walked away, but she followed him, screaming and yelling at him. She was only a hair’s breadth away from assaulting him. As they got closer to the Tree House, Delphina quietened.

  Peter saw why immediately.

  The porch was heavily guarded by Woodfolks, armed with staffs and hardened looks, peering out into the darkness for threats. Through them, Peter saw Grey Crawford and five other elderly men seated at the grand table, having a meeting.

  Peter faintly recognized two of the elderly men. They were community Elders. Then Peter recalled his father saying something about a Sprouting Ceremony. All Elders would be in town.

  A cold feeling settled on Peter. Now he knew with all certainty that he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to return to Bar Harbor. He also knew with all certainty that things were only going to get worse.

  As he drew nearer, he heard Julian’s voice.

  Peter sighed with relief. Julian had not died!

  He angled toward the gathering, keeping in the shadows so no one spotted him. He had a clear view of Julian. Purple bruises covered most of Julian’s face. He had shed his jacket, exposing his shirt, which was soaked with blood. His hands were muddied and bloodied.

  Whose blood is that? Peter thought with dismay. Did someone die?

  But even as he asked the question he saw the stupidity of it. Of course, someone died. Many died. Every time—every time!—Woodfolks went up against Metallics it always rained red with Woodfolks’ blood.

  This fact triggered Peter’s rage. He felt a hatred for the Metallics he had not felt in a long time.

  They had taken Cynthia. Now, they had almost taken Julian. Yeah, he and Julian might not be on the best of terms, but still, they were brothers. Someone had to show these Metallics. Someone had to stand up to them.

  Peter sighed. Sadly, that someone was not him.

  “We can’t let this deed go unpunished,” Julian was saying.

  “What you’re suggesting is a bit…too much,” said one of the Elders. It was Balthazar Arman in all his glory and pomposity.

  “Too much?” Julian replied, his face raw. “They killed two of our own before we arrived. When we arrived, they killed James and put Blake in a hospital. Tell me, Elder Arman, how is replying in kind too much?”

  “Bah…” Elder Arman said lazily with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You know nothing, child.”

  “Don’t I?” Julian replied, further enraged by Elder Arman’s obvious apathy. “I fucking watched James die in my hands!” And then Julian launched into another rant about how Woodfolks had to become more lethal and more violent.

  Julian went on about how Metallics had become so bodacious that they had invaded Maine, indiscriminately killed three Woodfolks, and got away with it.

  Julian slammed his fists into the table, causing all the patrolling Woodfolks to flinch and tighten their grasps on their staffs.

  “We can’t do nothing. We have to fight back! We have to show those—”

  “Enough,” Grey Crawford said. His voice was almost a whisper; however, Julian, though riled up, obeyed.

  “Balthazar?”

  “We have been at peace for so long a time, Grey,” Elder Arman said, his eyes devoid of empathy, his tone tired as if he had better things to do than be at the meeting. “I see no reason why we should go to war with these people again.”

  “So, what, Father?” a voice said. “You want us to stand by and do nothing? Three dead Woodfolks and one hospitalized Woodfolk is no reason to seek retribution? If for nothing, at least to preempt future atrocities?”

  Peter pulled closer to look at the guy who spoke so bravely. He was young, college-age probably, and blonde. He didn’t particularly look intimidating, but the Wood energy he exuded, even in his restful state, was pretty strong.

  “Greg Arman,” Delphina whispered behind him.

  Peter glanced over his shoulder in surprise. He didn’t know she had stuck close to him.

  Delphina frowned at him. “Heir apparent to the Arman Empire.”

  Peter was impressed by Greg’s logic. A firm reprisal attack was necessary to stave off future attacks. But for how long? Would it even work?

  Marcus Stane was not the sort of man to be reasoned with. He was a tyrant, who always, almost certainly, won.

  Peter drew nearer to the porch, seeking a closer look at its inhabitants when Julian caught sight of him.

  “What’s he doing here?” Julian yelled, pointing in his direction.

  Delphina, on cue, melted away into the darkness as all eyes fell on him. Immediately, a hole appeared through the crowd to the porch.

  Grey looked at Peter, disappointed, then said to Julian, “Julian, not here…”

  “You silly prick!” Julian stalked around the grand table and marched toward the edge of the porch. He stood there and glowered at him.

  “You fucking traitor! How could you run away?! When they needed you most?”

  Peter felt his tongue dry out. He tried to respond in his defense, but Julian gave him no such opportunity.

  Julian condemned his actions in very harsh terms, blaming James’s death on him.

  “You’re lucky,” Julian said, winding down. “You’re lucky Mark Zusaski showed up when he did…if not, Dylan would have suffered a lot more than he did. Delphina would never forgive you.”

  “That’s enough, Julian,” Grey said.

  Peter resisted any urge to let out the venomous angry words simmering at the tip of his tongue. He merely nodded, accepting the insults.

  After a few seconds of silence, Grey Crawford cleared his throat.

  “What should be our next course of action and where does that leave the Sprouting Ceremony?” he asked.

  All attention returned to the men seated at the table, and Peter was soon forgotten. Fighting back the powerful sob in his chest, he made his way to the side of the Tree House. Before he was out of earshot, he heard the Elders agree to continue with the ceremony.

  Peter thought of stopping by Dylan’s room to see how he was holding up, but he decided against it. The last thing he needed was another tongue lashing from Dylan.

  In his room, he met his bed just as he had left it. He fell on the messed up bed, and before he knew it, exhaustion took him over.

  CHAPTER SIX

  H

  e knocked only once. It was a very light rap on the door, almost uncertain, but it was enough to yank Peter out of sleep.

  The light came on next. Julian stood at the doorway, looking…contrite. Had he come to officially kick him out?

  Peter chanced a glance out his window. It was still dark, though traces of golden streaks sketched the distant horizon. Dawn was near.

  He scoffed softly. Another night gone. Julian’s hurtful words yesterday meant nothing to him today. His resolve to leave as soon as possible was strengthened.

  Running into danger wasn’t his thing. Maybe Grey Crawford would think twice before sending him on another mission.

  Peter sat up in bed and stared at his brother.

  Julian wore a fitting sweatshirt and a pair of baggy shorts, revealing hairy, muscled legs. He definitely seemed discomforted standing in Peter’s room.

  Had Grey put him up to this? Maybe to apologize for last night?

  Peter sighed. “Look, did Dad put you up to this? You don’t have to do it. If he asks me, I’ll tell him you came.” Peter made to turn away when Julian spoke. His tone was hard, almost lifeless.

  “Father did not send me,” he said
. “I came of my own volition.”

  Amused, Peter glanced at him again and nodded for him to go on, taking note that this was the first time he referred to Grey Crawford as ‘Father’ and not ‘my father.’

  “I am sorry for the way I acted yesterday,” Julian continued in his apathetic voice. “I am also sorry for what I said last night. I realize you just got back, and the Metallics are a terrible bunch.”

  Peter had a hard time believing Julian. Singly because of how he kept his eyes: hard and almost daring, as if to say: accept my apology, you jerk.

  “Okay,” Peter replied.

  Though Julian’s apology had insincere so blatantly written all over it, Peter decided it was the best he was going to get.

  Not that he cared in any way, after all, he would be gone in a few days, but he figured if Julian was on his side, albeit tentatively, things would go a little smoother.

  “I’m going for a run, you want to come?”

  Peter immediately felt alarms go off in his head. “Run? I don’t…”

  “It’s not a trick to get you on another mission, I promise.” You pathetic fool, Julian didn’t add. But his face said it all.

  “Just because you promise doesn’t mean I believe you,” Peter shot back. He was particularly annoyed by the patronizing look Julian gave him.

  Tension stirred up in the room. Julian’s face turned a shade redder, and the muscles in his face twitched as he struggled to remain calm.

  Peter soon realized what he had done and regretted it. He didn’t have a right to get mad at anybody. He didn’t have a right to retort Julian. He had no rights whatsoever here in the Tree House.

  “We’re just going for a jog,” Julian assured Peter. “I wanted to spend some time with you away from this place. Maybe we could reason together to get past…”

  This time, Peter heard it. The fear, the hurt, and the hatred all bottled up inside Julian. Then he understood. Julian was just as scared and hurt as he was.

  Peter stood up. “Give me a sec. Let me change into something more appropriate.”

  Julian nodded and left the room.

  Peter changed into a red sweatshirt and a pair of baggy pants. He grabbed a pair of flat-heeled shoes from the closet. He sat down to put the shoes on, looking out through the window.

  The window overlooked the open field. In the darkness, Peter could only make out an outline of the fence and shadowy figures of patrolling Woodfolks.

  Peter closed his eyes. He took in deep breaths of the clean, cool air, letting them out slowly.

  Calm, he tapped his power core, causing it to flare into a bonfire. He reached to the trees beyond the fence.

  This time wasn’t like the first. This time, the trees were a little more yielding, though their deep-seated agony still rushed through his mind like a tornado.

  Peter cut off the flow and let go of the trees, his power slowing to a dull pulse within him.

  Like muscle memory, his powers and his body were getting accustomed to his new environment.

  Not that I need it for anything. Peter headed toward the door. I’ll be out of this place soon.

  In the common room, Dylan lay on his back on a couch, sweaty and in pain, while Delphina sat by his side, speaking soothing words into his ears.

  A man, who wore a white lab coat and a stethoscope, extracted a small quantity of powdery green leaf from a small open bag by his side and applied it to Dylan’s broken arm.

  Julian stood a few feet away, watching with concern.

  “What’s he doing?” Peter blurted.

  Everyone looked at him.

  The man paused, looked at Julian, and said, “Is this…”

  Julian nodded. “Peter.”

  “Hi,” the man said with a smile, “I’m Doctor Wallace. I’m a surgeon at Maine General Hospital. Your father has told me so much about you.”

  Peter didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or excited. What had Grey said about him? After all, everything there was to know about him was bad.

  “Nice to meet you, Doctor Wallace.”

  The doctor went back to work. He suspended a palm over Dylan’s fractured arm and began to move it in a clockwise manner. The smudged herb on Dylan’s arm started to vibrate visibly, then it spread all over Dylan’s arm until it formed a thin layer of green.

  Doctor Wallace shut his eyes and squinted as if listening for something.

  By now Dylan was silent. His whimpers of pain were no more, and Delphina clung to him, staring at the doctor as he worked.

  The doctor cracked a smile and made a fist with his stretched palm. What happened next stunned Peter.

  The vibrating layer of green got thinner and thinner until it simply was not there. It seemed to have disappeared, but Peter knew it hadn’t. Somehow, the doctor had made Dylan’s arm absorb the herb. But how?

  Peter couldn’t help his burning curiosity. Though the doctor still had his eyes tightened in concentration, Peter whispered, “How is this possible?”

  Delphina scowled at him. She obviously didn’t appreciate the intrusion.

  The doctor didn’t answer. The only reply came from Julian who cocked his head in Peter’s direction and whispered, “You need to be quiet, Peter. Let the doctor finish.”

  Doctor Wallace sighed aloud and withdrew from Dylan. “Finished.”

  He then turned to Peter. “You’ve been away for a while. During your time away, our researchers have made mighty strides in Wood Levitating.”

  “Medical researchers?” Peter wondered aloud.

  Wallace shook his head. “No, I mean Woodfolks researching about Wood Levitating.”

  The man beamed, turned to the wall, and waved his hand. A section of wall frittered away into dust, leaving in its place a doorway and revealing the open field, the fence, and the forest beyond. Sunlight and fresh air poured into the room.

  “All this energy,” Wallace continued, closing his eyes for a moment and relishing the rays of sunlight falling on his face. “All this power of Wood Levitating and we know only so little.

  “That has been the reason for all our failings. That has been the reason for our inability to protect the ones we love.”

  Cynthia Crawford...

  On that note, a darkness fell on the gathering. The doorway disappeared as the section of the wall reformed, shutting out the sunlight and early morning summer air.

  “There’s so much potential in Wood Levitating,” Wallace said. “What I did here with Dylan is little. What you did with the Baobab tree yesterday is nothing. What your father has done with this Tree House and the Great Wall is nothing.

  “What the greatest Woodfolks in time past did with their abilities is nothing compared to what is possible when we fully appreciate what we’re truly capable of.”

  Julian spoke next. “Doctor Wallace here is one of the few Woodfolks who believe that we are the most powerful Levitators,” he said. “They say that unlike metal and earth, our solid matter, wood, is alive, hence our ability to Levitate it is limited by its living quality. I say bullshit!”

  “You see, the power within a Levitator is infinite,” Wallace said, ignoring Julian’s snide remark and continuing with every bit of awe and enthusiasm as before.

  “We belittle this power by only lifting objects and hurling them through the air to build or destroy. But there’s so much more that is possible and that’s why we research. The Wood Research Institute in California is home to over one hundred Woodfolks who are constantly learning about our powers.

  “What I did here with your friend, we recently just discovered. The herb I administered to Dylan is a wound-healing drug on steroids. It was grown by Levitation and I had to Levitate it through his skin pores, through strands of blood vessels to get it to the fractured bone.”

  “But how could you direct it without complications?” Peter asked, totally fascinated by what he was learning.

  Wallace smiled. “I felt my way through. You see, I’v
e learned to control my Levitation so well that I can use pieces of wood as a communication device. Some wooden materials communicate better than others. With this herb, I could only feel. And being a doctor, I have a pretty good idea of what fat, blood, or bone feels like.”

  “So you could talk to the wood?” Peter asked.

  Wallace chuckled. “No,” he said. “I’m not one of the Two. The wood didn’t reveal a secret to me. Think of it as being conscious of the presence of trees. Every Woodfolk can sense trees. Only, I’ve gone a little bit further to be able to sense the wood’s surroundings.”

  “Interesting,” Peter said, a thousand questions bustling in his mind. He glanced down at his hands as if Wood Levitating was a newfound power.

  For the first time in a lot of years, Peter truly believed he could make a difference with his powers. If what Doctor Wallace said was true, then Woodfolks didn’t have to bow to Metallics or even Earthlings every time. They could fight back and win!

  Peter felt hope, and when he remembered how Metallics killed Woodfolks in Woodfolk territory last night he felt a stirring of anger within him.

  “Yeah, well, so far all you folks have been able to produce is talk of great possibilities,” Julian grumbled. “No real weapons. No real use of our ‘great power,’ and every day our people get slaughtered in our streets.”

  Wallace rolled his eyes at Julian. Glancing at Peter, he said in a soft tone, “Very soon. All we need is some more time to look for…healthier ways to apply our magnificent discoveries.”

  “Healthier?” Peter asked, the word raising red flags in his mind.

  Doctor Wallace did not reply. Instead, he turned to Julian. “The drug has taken effect already”—he glanced at Dylan, who was now unconscious—“he should be up and perfectly well within the hour. Call me if anything goes wrong.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Julian replied. To Delphina, he said, “See the good Doc off, will you?”

  Delphina nodded and followed Doctor Wallace out of the common room.

  “Hey, what did he mean by ‘healthier’?” Peter asked Julian as they descended the staircase.

  Julian didn’t reply until they were out in the open.