Storm Of War

by Ugo, Kachi

  A group of five Woodfolks guarded the makeshift gate installed into the walkway. Another group of eight Woodfolks jogged around the open field. Clinging to the ground were fading wisps of mist.

  “Many of the discoveries cannot be effectively applied to Wood Levitating because it harms us,” Julian said.

  Julian led them to the portion of the fence adjacent to the side of the Tree House. A section of the fence in this area shimmered as a group of five Woodfolks came through and solidified behind them.

  Julian Mistified the fence again, leading Peter through.

  Peter was about to ask more questions, but Julian broke into a jog. Peter followed. They were barreling through the thick trees within seconds, and Peter couldn’t bring himself to question his brother further because he was busy trying to keep up and not get exsanguinated.

  About twenty minutes later, they broke out of the forest to a smooth ledge of rock overlooking a small road. The road was about half a mile long, breaking off from a highway and ending in a huge wooden fence. This one was taller than the one at the Tree House. It was also well chiseled and polished.

  At two yards above, the ledge of rock stood on either side of the road gently sloping down toward it in the form of a hydroelectric dam. Piled along the ledges were huge pylons of logs, forming a precarious structure that risked crashing on the road at a destructive velocity.

  Julian maneuvered his way past the ledge and slid down the slope, hitting the road jogging. Peter kept close behind. As he did, he kept his eyes on the logs of wood. They stretched the entire length of the small road, hundreds if not thousands of them.

  “Why all the logs?” Peter asked with a little whisper, afraid that if he spoke any louder the structure would come crashing down on their heads.

  Julian beamed with pride as they approached the fence.

  “My idea,” he said. “We call this place the valley of the shadow of death. This is what makes this place virtually impenetrable by enemy forces.”

  Peter understood. “If they come knocking…”

  “Why, we drop a hundred tons of wood on their heads.”

  Peter instantly felt safe being here.

  “How about when they attack from behind? What’s there?”

  “A cliff,” Julian replied. “The last time I checked, Metallics didn’t know a darn thing about flying.”

  As they closed in on the fence, Peter could hear excited voices. Shouts, laughs, giggles, battle cries, and the incessant clash of wood against wood. He could also feel an enormous rhythm of Wood energy pulsing through the fence.

  “What is this place?” Peter asked in awe.

  Julian responded by brandishing his right arm. In response, an outlined section of the fence turned into mist. Julian motioned for Peter to step through. Peter braced himself and walked through the Mistified doorway.

  It was as if he had stepped into another world. A vibrantly bustling one.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  T

  he place was vast, an open field of low-cut grass stretching for hundreds of yards in every direction. Hundreds of Woodfolks, most of them young folks, practiced Wood Levitating in scattered groups. Wood materials, including plank shafts, flat platforms, bullet-shaped wood, wooden staffs, and a multitude of other machinations, roamed the air.

  The sight was amazing. The energy was high.

  Peter looked from face to face, group to group, noticing the pattern in the madness. Each group was composed of Woodfolks of roughly the same age and size. Each group had Woodfolks of as low as five and as much as forty and two or more instructors.

  Some groups practiced basic Levitation. Lifting. Curling. Throwing. Pulling. Some groups practiced basic Levitation but used heavier objects to strain endurance and improve LevMet. Yet, some groups practiced dueling and warfare.

  The field was alive with yells, bursts of laughter, screams of instructors, and the usual high-pitched laughter. It felt like boot camp. But Peter noticed the same thing on all the faces he saw: they were happy. Content. Brave. Ready to do what was necessary.

  Was that why Julian had brought him here? To ridicule him? To show him that Woodfolks way younger than him were being trained to fight in the coming war which the Elders didn’t want to acknowledge?

  “Welcome to our training facility,” Julian said, standing silently beside him.

  “Most of the training is done out here in the field, but”—he pointed at the cluster of wooden buildings that formed a semi-circle on the far end of the field—“some lessons have to be learned in classrooms and controlled environments.”

  Beyond the buildings stood the fence, tall and imposing, sealing in the facility like a fortress. Armored men armed with smooth long staffs rode the air on special wooden platforms, patrolling the fence.

  Aeronauts, Peter thought wistfully. It had been one of his childhood dreams, becoming an aeronaut.

  An instructor approached them from a group of student Woodfolks on the far left. She was a tall brunette and elegantly dressed in a matching purple skirt and blouse. Julian smiled as she approached, then hugged and kissed her.

  “Peter this is my girlfriend, Stephanie,” Julian said. “Babe, this is…”

  “Peter Crawford,” Stephanie said, smiling.

  Peter reached out for a handshake, but Stephanie reeled him into a brief hug. Stephanie had one of those pretty faces with soft features and kind eyes. She kept her hair short, which gave her a solid look as well.

  “Nice to meet you,” Peter said distracted by Julian’s uneasy glances at the entrance. A group of mean-looking Woodfolks, obviously members of the facility’s security team, were gathering there.

  Oh no, Peter thought. Not again...

  “Uh, Steph, can you give Peter a grand tour of our facility while I attend to a little matter?”

  Stephanie looked at her boyfriend as if to protest, but when she saw the look in his eyes and the Woodfolks gathered at the barrier, she nodded.

  “Sure. Right this way, Peter,” Stephanie said, gesturing in the general direction of the distant buildings. She then grabbed his hands and pulled him away.

  As soon as they moved across the field, Peter kept watch over Julian as he went over to the Woodfolks at the entrance. He couldn’t hear a thing of what was said; however, the looks on their faces told Peter three things.

  One, something was wrong. Two, something was about to go down that they didn’t like. Three, he had to get the hell out of here, now!

  Stephanie pointed at the first building on the right side of the semicircle.

  “We’ll start at the east end of the facility and go all the round to the west end.”

  “Something is wrong, isn’t it?” Peter asked.

  “What?” Stephanie blurted, seemingly taken aback by his question.

  “I saw the Woodfolks near the entrance,” Peter pointed out. “Those aren’t students. They’re protectors. If they’re gathering near the entrance, it means something bad is about to happen, or worse, we’re about to be attacked.”

  Stephanie paused and glanced at Peter. “You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought.”

  Peter shrugged. Of course he had. He didn’t want to be anywhere near here when Metallics came for blood.

  “Well, I don’t know what’s up. I’m as wound up as you are. But does it matter? Whatever it is, we have children here. And we have to protect them.”

  Though he was ashamed to admit it, Peter didn’t really give a rat’s ass about the people in the facility, children, teenagers, or otherwise.

  “Right?” Stephanie asked.

  “What?”

  “We have to protect them…” Stephanie gave him that knowing look. She had heard the stories. Of course she had. She knew that he had run away.

  So why did she seek assurance for what was not possible?

  “Sure,” Peter lied.

  The truth? Peter had to protect only one person and that was himself. If h
e could, maybe he would help others, but he wasn’t going to go out of his way, certainly not into the way of danger.

  Stephanie led him on. They came across a cluster of teens practicing flying lessons with sturdy broomsticks. To add a little drama and flair to it, some of them wore dark robes and pointy hats.

  It took them about thirty minutes to go from the east end to the west end, by which time Peter was both exhausted and excited about what he’d seen and learned. It turned out, Stephanie was a great guide and also a research enthusiast.

  Soon, Peter forgot about the looming threat to their lives. He was absorbed in Stephanie’s teachings.

  Peter noticed the gleam in her eyes as they got to a three-story research building on the southern tip of the semi-circle of buildings. When he asked her about the WRI and Doctor Wallace and the whole research thing Woodfolks had going on, she launched into another of her lectures.

  “It’s the way forward,” she said as they made their way to the next building, which was a large hall for the Sprouting group. “For eons now, we’ve been subject to Earthlings and Metallics, being the weakest of the three. But now, it’s all about to change. We have hope.”

  “Hope?” asked Peter, stifling the scoff that made to go with the word. “Julian seems to think otherwise.”

  At the mention of her boyfriend’s name, Stephanie’s resolve faltered briefly. But then she firmed up and said, “Julian believes in what we’re doing. It’s just that the attacks we’ve been facing from Metallics these past few weeks—the pressures to defend ourselves—have made any means to up our game desperately needed. And naturally, when a certain way promises solution and fails to deliver, it is loathed by those who need it more.”

  “What?”

  Stephanie came to a halt next to a hall with large open windows.

  “Doctor Wallace, 2020,” she said. “When he was making his case before the Council of Elders to keep the Wood Research Institute running.

  “Because Julian feels the pressure to defend Maine from Metallic insurgency, when he turns to the WRI and they can’t deliver, he loathes them. Doesn’t mean what they’re doing there is not worth it.”

  She paused, then said, “If it weren’t worth it, people like Doctor Wallace, the Council of Elders, and even Chief Grey Crawford wouldn’t believe in it so much.” Stephanie watched Peter for a reaction when she mentioned his father’s name.

  Peter remained blank faced. He felt a sting of curiosity in his heart, and he decided he’d question his dad about the issue, but he was getting so much information from Stephanie that he didn’t want to lead her off track.

  “Julian said that Woodfolk research had discovered so many great ways for us to use our powers that are sure to place us at the top of the food chain, but that when they are tried, they…harm the victim?”

  “Killed.”

  Peter felt a flare of fear in his chest. “Say what?”

  “The manifestations required so much energy that it killed the Levitators who tried them.”

  Peter noticed she hesitated so he prodded her on. “But…”

  She gazed into Peter’s eyes as though searching for answers. “But the Earth and Metal variations worked just as well.”

  The flare of fear quickly morphed into a raging fire.

  “Don’t be afraid, Pete,” Stephanie said, “they were loyal to our cause.”

  “Why?” Peter asked forcefully, breaking with hurt. Once again, Wood Levitation had betrayed them.

  Stephanie sighed. “If we knew, we’d have fixed it. It’s as if no one has enough juice to do more than raise and hurl objects, save of course a select few, like your family. But one family can’t win a war.”

  “Indeed not.” Peter nodded.

  He peered through the open window and noticed a group of about twenty kids. A petite woman stood by a whiteboard, teaching. Peter couldn’t make out what she was saying.

  “Who are these ones?”

  “Misfits,” Stephanie replied. “They haven’t Sprouted.”

  “Really?” Peter peered through the window again. Most of the kids were older than twelve, which was the general age a Woodfolk “Sprouted” or came into their power.

  “Yeah,” Stephanie said. “Miss Ginger is a pretty talented teacher. She’ll help them.”

  Peter heard the distraction in her voice. He turned to see what had distracted her. She was focused on an approaching figure.

  Julian.

  “Hey,” Stephanie whispered to him, worry creasing her brows.

  “Hey.” Julian looked raw and furious.

  “What’s up?” Peter asked.

  “Nothing,” Julian replied a little too fast, flashing an uneasy smile.

  Peter folded his arms and frowned. Julian was obviously upset about something. From the looks of it, those mean-looking Woodfolks at the fence were somehow involved.

  “Look, Julian. It’s obvious something is wrong.”

  Before Julian could reply in the negative, Peter added, “Who were those guys at the fence?”

  “Patrol guards.”

  Stephanie instantly became uneasy.

  Peter picked up on this. “What did they want?”

  “Is this an interrogation?” Julian replied with a little edge in his voice. “What they wanted with me is no business of yours.”

  Peter tried to keep his cool, suppressing the intense urge to explode.

  “Look, Julian,” he said in a measured voice. “You brought me out here this morning. The least you can do is to be straight with me. Is something wrong?”

  Julian only gazed, silent, at Peter.

  It was Stephanie who spoke. “Those aren’t patrol guards. They are first responders.”

  As soon as she said that, she placed a tentative palm on Peter’s arm to keep him calm. Julian looked curiously at him. It seemed as though he expected a specific response from him.

  Peter swallowed hard and asked a question he dreaded because he knew the answer. “First responders to what?”

  “Threats,” Stephanie said.

  “Julian!” someone called.

  Peter jolted at the shrill scream and would have run had Stephanie’s palm on his arm not tightened.

  They all turned in the direction of the voice. A ruddy bare-chested boy was hightailing it toward them. Beyond the boy, the crowd of Woodfolks out in the field were being herded toward the cluster of buildings.

  The boy halted before them, bending over out of breath for a few seconds. Then he straightened up. “We are under attack.”

  “What?” Julian blurted. “Who?”

  “Metallics.”

  A cold, fearful silence followed. Julian chanced an uncertain glance at Stephanie and then at Peter. Peter could see it in his eyes. Julian didn’t know what to do. Yet he was the leader here, and he had to do something, even if it meant his death.

  Julian grabbed the boy and they ran toward the main entrance without a word.

  The crowd of Woodfolks arrived at the cluster of buildings. Their fearful murmurs caught the attention of the people inside, who trooped out to see what was happening.

  Peter looked over the sea of scared faces before him. There must have been over two hundred of them, both small and big, all scared.

  The murmurs of fear were quickly rising to fearful wails as the able Woodfolks among them were being called to defend the fence. The aeronauts were no longer flying above their heads for they had also been called to the fence.

  Peter and Stephanie watched as someone broke off from the group of Woodfolks at the entrance, bounding across the open field to the crowd, and made his way toward them. It was one of the patrol guards.

  “It’s bad,” he said at first, before taking his time to catch his breath.

  Stephanie’s first reaction was to look at Peter. She probably knew he was already thinking of a way to run. What did she expect? That he’d stay and fight and get skewered in the chest by a shaft of metal? N
o, thanks!

  “What’s the situation, Dom?” Stephanie asked.

  Some of the Woodfolks around leaned in to hear what the messenger had to say.

  “There’s a truckload of Metallics headed our way.” Dom’s proclamation was attended by a loud murmur. “There are about ten. Twelve, when you count the two in the trailer that’s loaded with metal poles.”

  The crowd went wild with fear.

  Peter, whose heart had almost failed him for fear, turned and bolted.

  He pushed his way through the crowd until he was free of them and ran toward the edge of the field. Behind, he heard Stephanie call his name, but he ignored her.

  He had one thing on his mind, which was to get away from this place.

  When Dom had mentioned the metal poles, he’d seen a vivid imagery of one of those poles sinking into one side of his chest and sticking out his back.

  He couldn’t let that happen to him.

  As Peter approached the huge fence, he unleashed a powerful blast of power without thinking of the consequences. Interestingly, he only felt his power core flare, shredding a portion of the fence and forming a pathway into the open.

  Then came the horrendous chest pain. Peter flipped over, falling to his knees. But he was too angry and terrified to care, so he fought back. He fought the Wood’s resistance. He fought the weakness and shortness of breath.

  Determined to save himself, he pushed back to his feet, having overcome the Wood’s resistance. The pain was still there, to be sure, but it wasn’t going to stop him.

  Peter kept moving.

  Beyond the opening was a cliff. He stalked past the opening to a small clearing, which overlooked a forest hundreds of yards beneath.

  How will I get down there? Peter thought, beginning to feel the physical drain of using his power.

  Peter’s eyes caught a small platform of wood from the shredded fence. It was perfect for gliding. He grasped it and yanked it toward him.

  The platform sailed through the air, landing at his feet. He climbed onto it.

  Peter hadn’t tried flying before, but he figured it was better to try flying and break a bone than to fight a bunch of Metallics and die.