Storm Of War

by Ugo, Kachi

  “Peter…”

  “That’s on me.”

  “No, Pete,” Stephanie said. “That’s on the Metallics. The deaths of these men are on the Metallics, and we’ll get vengeance for what they did.”

  Thirty-five men, Peter thought to himself. Dead.

  Julian approached them later on. He glared at Peter, furious.

  “Where the hell were you?” he demanded. “Where were you when these blasted Metallics slew our people by the numbers?”

  “That’s enough,” Stephanie insisted.

  “No, Steph, if he’d come—”

  “Enough!” she snapped. “Can’t you see he’s beaten up already?”

  Julian held Stephanie’s withering gaze for half a minute, then he turned and marched away to meet a group of Woodfolks waiting for him. Dom was among them. Together, they headed to a waiting van, climbed in, and drove off.

  “He’s grieving,” Stephanie said.

  “I know,” Peter replied. “Where’s he headed?”

  “Three other installations are still under attack. They’re going as reinforcement.”

  “The Tree House?” Peter asked with a sudden spike of fear.

  “No,” Stephanie replied. “They wouldn’t dare.”

  Before long the cops arrived. They took everyone’s statement and investigated the wreckage. They concluded that it was a freak accident.

  This conclusion wasn’t unexpected and not just because they had stage-managed the scene. There were Woodfolks working in every known government agency in America, including law enforcement. Whenever incidences like this occurred, these Woodfolks made sure they got assigned to the case so they could influence the investigations.

  One of the detectives approached Stephanie and Peter where they sat. He was a tall, blond man in his mid thirties. Peter could sense the Wood energy coming off of him.

  The detective bowed curtly to Peter, then said to Steph, “Our freak accident story has stuck. No one will be coming here again to investigate. We’re in the clear.”

  “And the dead bodies?”

  “They’ll be transferred to the morgue,” the detective replied. “The ones that aren’t claimed in forty-eight hours will be cremated.”

  “Thanks, Rick,” Stephanie said.

  “Sure thing, Steph,” Rick replied. “I’m just so mad that I wasn’t here to help out.” Rick turned to Peter. “I heard you took those bastards down within seconds.”

  Peter hesitated. This conversation could go two ways. One, where he was praised for killing the Metallics. Two, where he was condemned for intervening after many Woodfolks had already died.

  “Yes, he did,” Steph replied for him.

  “Good,” Rick replied. “Knowing we have someone like you is giving many people hope. We might yet win this coming war.”

  Rick looked around surreptitiously, then leaned in and spoke in a whisper. “There’s even talk of retaliation.”

  Stephanie laughed away Rick’s assertion. “I don’t think so, Rick.”

  Rick only shrugged. “Hey, I’m headed your way. I could give you a ride if you want.”

  Stephanie looked around. Most of the children and young people had already been evacuated by their parents or guardians. The adults that remained either lived or worked here, or were just waiting for the cops to clear out so they could leave, too.

  “I would like to go home,” Peter said, struggling to his feet, gripping his bloody staff. A powerful wave of dizziness hit him, threatening to crush him, but he held on to his staff and weathered the storm.

  “All right,” Stephanie said, “let’s get out of here.”

  Rick dropped them off by the side of the road. Being back to this side of Mount Desert Island didn’t help Peter’s weakness. The dreariness and crushing depression threatened to overwhelm him.

  Stephanie helped Peter along the path to the Tree House. There were more guards around and in the Tree House. One of them attempted to help Stephanie, but she waved him off.

  There was a sad calm blanketing the Tree House. Sad faces everywhere.

  Stephanie helped Peter as far as the common room, after which he thanked her and continued alone.

  Peter didn’t get to his bed. As soon as he shut his door, he buckled under his weight, hit the ground, and fell asleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  P

  eter woke to a soft tap on his shoulder and found himself tucked in his bed. Stephanie sat beside him, a wan smile on her face.

  Delphina stood in the open doorway, her face smudged with tears and blood. Her dress was torn in several places, and her jeans shredded from knee down. Her eyes were bloodshot, filled with anger and sorrow at the same time, her exposed skin playing host to a series of bruises.

  Peter sat up in bed. “Are you all right, Del?”

  She nodded, then looked away, and more tears flowed down her face. Peter glanced at Stephanie for an explanation.

  “We lost a lot of good people today,” Stephanie said.

  “How is Julian?” Peter asked. He remembered the other installations that were under attack.

  “He’s fine,” Stephanie said. “If he hadn’t gotten to his destination on time, Dylan and Delphina would have died.”

  Peter glanced back at Delphina and found her looking at him. “Is Dylan okay?”

  Delphina shook her head, stifling a sob. Yet, more tears streaked across her face.

  “I just wanted to see for myself that you’re all right.” Then she turned and scurried away.

  Peter’s heart sank. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

  Stephanie nodded. “They laid waste to our facilities. They slaughtered our people.” Her eyes hardened.

  Peter stood up and began to pace in his small room. He paused and glanced at Stephanie. “Why are you here, Steph?”

  “I came here to tell you that the Council meeting begins in thirty minutes and you have been invited.”

  “One of my father’s maids could have easily delivered that message,” Peter replied, unconvinced. “Why are you here instead? Why aren’t you at Julian’s side now that he needs you most?”

  “Your brother is going to go after the Metallics whether the Council approves or not. He’s going to lead a hundred-man group of angry Woodfolks who want payback and are willing to risk their lives to get it.”

  Stephanie paused. Even before she said any more, Peter knew why she was here.

  “I’m not—” he started.

  “I want you to join us to go after those people.”

  “—going to risk my life like that,” Peter finished. “It’s absolutely stupid!”

  Stephanie shot to her feet and stepped up to Peter, making him feel uncomfortable. He tried to look away from her intense gaze, but she cocked her head, keeping their eyes locked.

  “Tales of your conquest have spread across Maine,” Stephanie whispered to him. “You’ve become something of a legend. You’ve given people hope. People see you as a savior. Finally, the end to the Metallics treachery is at hand.”

  Peter scoffed. What a pipe dream.

  He turned away from Stephanie and began to pace again. With Stephanie standing in his way, there wasn’t a lot of room to pace, but he managed anyway.

  “I’m no savior, I can tell you that,” Peter said.

  “What? Are you kidding?” Stephanie questioned. “You put down three Metallics within three minutes, even less. They couldn’t even touch you.”

  Peter paused, pointing a finger at Stephanie. “If Julian hadn’t saved me, the last Metallic would have killed me. Plus, I almost died from using my powers like that. If there had been more, I wouldn’t have been able to help.”

  “I highly doubt that. How do you feel now?”

  Peter paused to check. Then he frowned. “Strong, actually. Famished of course, but strong.”

  “You see,” Stephanie said with a smile. “With training, your LevMet will increase. And your power always r
eplenishes itself.”

  Peter remembered when he had cared about his Levitation Metrics, or LevMet as it was called. He had always fussed about his capacity and his endurance levels. Now if he had to guess, his LevMet was pretty poor, since he couldn’t sustain his power for more than fifteen minutes.

  “I still can’t, Steph,” Peter said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Didn’t you think of that when you barreled into a power fight armed with only a staff?”

  “That was different.” Peter glanced at his baobab staff that was leaning against the wall next to the wardrobe. A crust of blood coated large portions of its length.

  “How?” Stephanie asked.

  Peter grabbed his staff. It made him feel safer, although he could feel its resistance to him. Peter thought about seeking his staff’s truth but then decided against it.

  “Julian.”’

  “What?”

  “Julian,” Peter repeated. “I heard him cry out and I totally lost it. I lost Cynthia, I couldn’t lose him too.”

  “Well, you’ll lose him if he goes alone and you’re not there to help him.”

  Peter shot an angry glare at Stephanie.

  Stephanie shrugged. “Shower and change into fresh clothes, and come with your staff. I’ll have one of the maids bring something up for you to eat. Council meeting begins in twenty-five minutes.”

  Stephanie strode out of the room without waiting for a reply.

  Peter spent the next ten minutes thinking about Stephanie’s thinly veiled threat. What if he went to battle with them? What if his presence wasn’t enough?

  At the training facility, he had lucked out. Everything happened so fast, and he was high on adrenaline. Moreover, he’d fought a handful of Metallics who were probably already strained from the battle.

  Now Stephanie proposed he go to a Metallic base. Fight them on their turf. It was suicidal.

  Struggling with these thoughts, Peter showered and changed into new clothes. Just in case he decided to go, he wore a leather jacket and jeans. He grabbed his baobab staff and headed for the common room.

  The maid had already laid out his food on the dining table. He ate in silence.

  With about three minutes to spare, Peter headed for the stairwell. He met Brad and Delphina out in the open on their way to the front porch. They were dressed for battle, with their staff and armor jackets.

  Brad playfully poked Peter in the arm. “Hey, buddy. How are you holding up?”

  Peter simply nodded. “You?”

  Brad shrugged. He pulled in closer and whispered into Peter’s ear. “The only thing that gives me joy about this whole thing is today we avenge our fallen with or without Council’s approval.”

  Peter cringed at the acidity in his words.

  “I heard about what you did,” Brad said, looking at Peter with a different set of eyes, eyes brimming with respect and…was that awe?

  “You saved Julian’s life.”

  Peter sniggered. “The way I remember it, he saved my life. The last Metallic would have killed me.”

  “But then you went all Rambo on them,” Brad said as he slung his arm around Peter’s neck. “Don’t worry, Bro. Tonight, you’ll get to kill as many of those buggers as you want.”

  The porch was crammed full with Woodfolks, about two hundred of them. Peter knew some of them. He recognized Dom, Mark, Cathy, Brenda, and Melinda. They hung around the majestic table reserved for the Elders, who at the moment weren’t present.

  “By the time we’re done with them,” Delphina whispered to them through gritted teeth, “when next they hear Woodfolks they’ll melt in their boots and poo their pants and then slit their throats to escape in cowardice.”

  Then she left them and disappeared into the crowd of Woodfolks, having spoken their minds.

  Peter and Brad exchanged determined looks before following her into the crowd. As they squeezed their way to the front, Elders came out through the large doors and filled ten of the twelve seats at the table.

  Julian filled the eleventh and Grey Crawford motioned for Peter to take the twelfth seat. At first he hesitated, but Grey’s reassuring look urged him to take it.

  The meeting began in earnest with a small prayer said in honor of the dead and a one-minute silence following.

  In the silence, Peter considered the yet-to-be-sanctioned mission Julian had planned. Would he sit it out or would he help them? Everyone seemed to think him a superman when they didn’t know the half of it.

  Peter didn’t trust himself with a handful of Metallics. He surely didn’t trust himself with an army of motivated, enraged Metallics who were probably expecting retaliation.

  There were too many variables. Too many things could go wrong.

  Yet, on the faces of most of the young Woodfolks around, Peter saw determination. He saw anger. He looked down, his decision made.

  He couldn’t do this… He wouldn’t. As soon as this meeting was over, he would tell his dad why he had come, borrow the money he needed, and skip town.

  “May their souls rest in peace,” Grey said at the end of the one-minute silent period.

  “Amen,” everyone chorused.

  “So far, this is what we know of the attacks today,” Grey said, standing up. He then went on to outline the happenings of the day.

  Three Woodfolk installations were attacked: the training facility, the College of Atlantic, and the Pit. Forty-three Metallics were killed. The Woodfolks toll, on the other hand, was enormous at one hundred and ten.

  Aside from the loss of lives, there was also loss of property. The training facility’s entrance was ruined. The Pit was left in ruins and would take months to rebuild. The College of Atlantic was the only Woodfolk facility spared the carnage because it was government-owned.

  “It is obvious that this attack was targeted to take out a large chunk of our leadership,” Grey said in conclusion.

  Elders usually arrived in Maine from as far as two weeks to a Sprouting Ceremony. They mostly spent most of their time in the three locations that were attacked.

  The training facility to impart knowledge to the younger generation, the Pit to train fighters, and the COA to help in the search of any knowledge concerning Wood Levitating.

  But when Grey came into power, he instructed Elders to travel to Maine only two days before the ceremony, except the few present who represented the ruling body of the Eldership—the Council of Elders—including the one in the hospital who had suffered severe injuries during the attacks.

  “Though it failed,” Grey continued. “It leaves me wondering why they would want to destroy our leadership. Do they have a more sinister plan?”

  Grey waved his hands around. “You are all here so we can deliberate our next cause of action, because whatever decision we make today will affect every Woodfolk across our country and perhaps beyond.”

  Grey yielded the floor, taking his seat.

  “I think we should investigate this incident to know what really happened before we make any decision concerning it,” said Elder Arman. Although Balthazar didn’t speak in his usual dismissive tone, he still had an air of aloofness around him.

  A hundred and ten dead, and you still don’t care? Peter wondered.

  “What?!” exploded someone standing nearby. It was the Elder’s son, Greg Arman. His eyes were bloodshot, craving vengeance. Whatever calm mien he had managed at the last Council meeting had been decimated by the Metallics effrontery. Now, all he wanted was blood.

  “You must be joking, Dad!” Greg mocked.

  “Greg!” his father cautioned with a stern tone, his long aquiline face contorting in a frown.

  Greg snorted and looked away from his father’s shocked gaze to address the other Elders and the crowd.

  “There is absolutely nothing to investigate,” Greg said. “It would be cowardly to do so when the evidence stares us in the face.”

  A wave of murmuring at the implied insult swept
through the crowd.

  Greg didn’t stand down. He continued in an emotion-laden voice.

  “The Metallics have invaded our homes, slaughtered our men, women, and children, and gotten away with it. If this attack goes unanswered, we will be making a statement that we are weak, and willing to lie down while our backs are trodden upon by those savages!”

  The crowd roared in agreement.

  Greg pumped a fist in the air and yelled, “I say we reply in kind and with utter surety.”

  “Yes!” the crowd responded.

  “I say we make a statement. That we are neither weak nor going to lie down while they tread on our backs!”

  “Yes!” went the crowd.

  “I say we attack tonight, swiftly and completely!”

  “Yeah!” the crowd responded.

  “Tonight?” said a lean, mean black Elder. Peter was seeing Dylan’s father for the first time since his return.

  “I understand we have to retaliate, but tonight?” the man said. “Wouldn’t that be too brash? Wouldn’t that be irresponsible?”

  “The only irresponsible thing would be to attack the Metallics outright, Brian,” Elder Arman said, unmoved by Greg’s impassioned allocution. “We really don’t know what happened.”

  “With all due respect, Elder Arman,” Julian said in a condescending tone, “we do know what happened.”

  “Watch your tone, boy,” Elder Arman snarled, his eyes shining with…murderous intent. “Remember to whom you speak.”

  Julian ignored him.

  “The Metallics have attacked us at home,” he went on. “It is a brazen action that cannot go unpunished, even if it takes the blood of one thousand more Woodfolks. Because if Metallics can do this to us at our center of power without serious repercussions, then they have already defeated us and our generations unborn.”

  There was a silence as Julian’s words sank in.

  “So what do you propose, son?” Grey Crawford asked, a proud smile curling up the right corner of his lips.

  “I propose war,” Julian said simply. “We start by destroying the remaining two of their outposts here in the city.”