Storm Of War

by Ugo, Kachi

  Peter further broke them into two teams with Delphina leading one and Peter leading the other. Then he assigned areas of the house to cover for both teams.

  Peter expected most of the inhabitants of the house to be in the living room, the bedroom, or the kitchen. So they would hit those places first, before checking other places.

  Peter’s team would go in through the front door, while Delphina’s team would go in through the back door.

  That settled, they silently made their way to the Metallic base, using the cover of darkness to mask their approach. They moved in clumps of four or five to avoid moving as a crowd and belay suspicion. The last thing they wanted was the cops responding to a concerned citizen’s 911 call.

  The trek to the building took about thirty minutes. When they arrived, they found the building ablaze with powerful lights. Behind the house was a thick forest. An SUV and two busses, all empty, were parked in front.

  The property wasn’t fenced and opened up to the waterfront. No one was outside.

  Peter gave the sign for the eighty to take up hidden positions around the house and wait. They weren’t going to attack until they synced with Julian’s team. The plan was for both attacks to be launched at the same time.

  “The balls on those twerps,” one of the ten, Timothy Zane, muttered. “They’re not even scared of a reprisal.”

  “It’s the deceitfulness of power,” Peter replied. “Once you have power it is difficult to see your own flaws. This will, undoubtedly, be the downfall of the Metallics.”

  They had to wait for ten minutes in the dark. Peter didn’t mind. He was tracking movements in the building. So far, he counted ten Metallics, most of whom were concentrated on the ground floor.

  When they finally received the go-ahead to attack, Delphina took her team and broke off to the left, sticking to the shadows as they went around the back.

  Peter led his own team in a mad dash for the front porch, eyes scanning the windows for any sign that they had been seen.

  The first mistake the Metallics made was to buy a house that was constructed, to a large extent, using wooden materials. The porch, the front door, and the entire floor beyond the door.

  Peter and his team crouched by the door. He touched the floor and grasped with his power. He eyed his team members. “Are you ready?” he whispered.

  Before anyone of them could respond they heard a huge commotion behind the house, then someone yelling. Delphina had attacked.

  Peter launched to his feet, taking hold of the door and pushing inward. He swept into the room as the door spun forward, his men coming in behind him.

  In the lobby directly before him, three Metallics swirled around to face him, stunned. Peter pushed the door toward them, twisting his power around the door and causing it to break into three pieces of stakes.

  The Metallics tried to dodge out of the way, but Peter expected it. He whipped out with his power at the floor beneath them, causing it to crack open and trapped them. The last they saw was his deadly smile before the stakes impaled their chests, spattering blood all over the corridor.

  Ahead, Peter watched another Metallic collapse to the ground dead and Delphina standing over his corpse. Her eyes were filled with rage, Wood energy trembling around her.

  Even the building trembled, rattled, as if being besieged by an earthquake.

  She cast him a quick glare before disappearing to the right passage.

  Elsewhere in the house, men screamed.

  Peter glanced to the right, where three of his team members had dealt with the two Metallics sitting by the TV. He saw that they hadn’t even gotten up from their seats, which had grabbed them, squeezed around them, and then slashed into them until they had bled out.

  “Go help Delphina and the rest upstairs,” Peter snapped at them.

  They brushed past him down the corridor and disappeared down the right passageway.

  Peter took one last look at the two dead men in the living room. One was a dark-haired man probably in his late twenties. He had died with an expression of surprise on his face. The other one was much older and much sterner. This one had died with his tongue out and his hand stretched, probably to Levitate.

  To the right of the main corridor was the kitchen, where another Metallic had been killed by the other two members of his team. The man laid bent over the annular counter, blood seeping from his chest, where Peter observed a spray of wooden darts.

  Metal may cut sharper than wood. But when sharpened wood was thrown at you with the speed and force of a bullet, it cut through just as effectively as metal.

  Soon, the screaming stopped.

  Peter was stunned at the effectiveness of his team. The Metallics hadn’t even gotten off a shot.

  “Hey, stop right there!” Delphina roared.

  Peter rushed in to the corridor and a man slammed into him. Disoriented, Peter toppled to the floor with the man. The man scrabbled past him to his feet, but Peter tapped his power core again, grasped at his staff, and hurled it at the man.

  The staff, which had been lying on the ground beside him, suddenly leaped into the air and sailed into the man’s legs, causing him to trip and slam into the porch’s wooden railing. The railing snapped under the man’s weight, and he fell through, crashing to the ground.

  “Are you all right?” Delphina said, coming to Peter’s side.

  “I’m fine,” he said, taking her offered hand and pulling up to his feet. Together, they went over to the Metallic.

  “He’s the last one surviving,” Delphina announced. “The rest are all dead.”

  Peter cringed at that. She had said it without an iota of fear. Did she not fear Marcus Stane?

  By the time they got to the man, he was surrounded by a group of thirty Woodfolks. The man was frozen in shock, looking up at his captors and whimpering.

  Peter stretched his hand, and his staff leaped up into it from where it had fallen. Peter leveled the staff at the man’s chest, twisting his power around the edge to sharpen it, much to the man’s terror.

  “Please,” the man said, “please don’t kill me…please. I’ll tell you all you need to know. I am the leader here. I am valuable.”

  “You’re the leader of all the Metallics in Maine?” Delphina asked, eyeing the man.

  “Yes,” the man nodded frantically.

  “That means you ordered the hit on our facilities…”

  The man’s eyes widened as he realized the implication of Delphina’s words.

  “You are responsible for the death of many of our men, women, and children…”

  Before the man could speak, a powerful surge of Wood energy ripped his staff from his hand and plunged it into the man’s heart, killing him instantly.

  Peter glared at Delphina, but she had turned to the Woodfolks around.

  “No more!” she yelled.

  “No more!” they yelled in return.

  “Burn the bodies and the building,” Delphina commanded.

  The Woodfolks whooped and hollered in excited agreement and went to do her bidding.

  Delphina didn’t yet look at him. She turned to the sea and breathed in the cool sea breeze before turning to face him.

  “You shouldn’t have killed him,” Peter said. “He could have provided us valuable intel.”

  “The one you spared from the training facility is still proving useful,” Delphina said.

  For a moment, they stared at each other, silent tension spiraling between them like a rising tornado.

  Then Delphina’s eyes glimmered with tears. “It worked,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “My God, Pete, it worked.”

  She hugged him, tightly. At first, Peter was surprised. Then he hugged her back as she sobbed, an old flame kindling in his heart.

  Their hearts beat as one.

  Delphina broke the hug and stared into Peter’s eyes again. This time she saw the fire, and her smile disappeared.

  Slowly,
as the soft sea breeze wafted around them, the distance between their lips vanished as they kissed. And just for that rare moment, all the pains, bitterness, and strife stirring in Peter’s heart faded into nothingness. For nothing else mattered save the taste of Delphina and the warmth of her body against his.

  The binding of their wills broke as Delphina pulled away, panting softly. Realizing what she had done, she staggered back. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  Peter frowned. “Sorry? I’m not sorry, Del.”

  “You don’t understand,” Del replied. “I’m with Dylan now.”

  Peter’s heart sank.

  “Our kiss, that was because of the binding,” Delphina said. “There’s nothing more to it.” She made to say more but was distracted when her phone rang. She stepped away to take the call, leaving him more confused.

  Peter stood by, watching Delphina as she took her call and tried to avoid looking at him. Soon, the house erupted into a glorious blaze of fire. This meant that they had to evacuate the site before the fire service arrived.

  By the time they returned to the van Delphina announced the news. Julian’s team was successful in sanitizing the storage facility with no casualties except for a few cuts and bruises. Everyone cheered at the news. Everyone except Peter, for he knew…war was coming.

  “Go home and spread the word. Our fallen have been avenged,” Delphina said.

  “Let’s not get cocky,” Peter cautioned. “We won this battle. Great. It simply means there will be more battles. Don’t slacken. Train. Train hard because we have declared war.”

  “Such a buzzkill,” Delphina noted, and everyone laughed.

  A couple of busses came to carry the fighters back to the Tree House. Before Peter entered their van, he gave one last look at the raging fire in the distance.

  “The police will report it as another fire accident,” Delphina said. “One that claimed the lives of thirteen people.”

  “Thirteen?” Peter asked.

  “Yes, Peter,” Delphina replied. “They deserved everything they got.”

  Peter refrained from responding. Because deep down in his heart he knew that this was no victory at all.

  We’ve only doomed ourselves.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  R

  ose Hernandez watched the only source of light in the large room wane, flicker, and die out, plunging her into darkness.

  Sadly, it was only in darkness that she found succor. In darkness, everything seemed…right. In darkness she didn’t have to contemplate her fears. She didn’t have to face the undeniable truth that the only mother she had known all her life was dying.

  Though the candle’s light was gone, its cinnamon scent wafted into the air, filling the whole room. And for the tenth time that night, Rose cried.

  A knock came on the door, which Rose soundly ignored. It came again and again until it became a steady, annoying rap on her door.

  Rose didn’t move from her small stool. She stared at the darkness and listened as the raps morphed into an angry bang commingled with yells of her name.

  “Sister Hernandez!” yelled the girl at the door. “Sister Rose this is the fifth time this week!”

  “Sister Hernandez,” yelled another of her students, though this one’s voice cracked with emotion. She had been crying. “Please, come teach us… We miss you….” Then she broke down in tears.

  It was Emily.

  Emily was about the closest person to Rose in the whole city-sized fortress, save of course the High Lady. That’s saying a lot because Rose didn’t have many friends. This was not because they didn’t like her. As a matter of fact she was a very likable person.

  The reason why she didn’t have many friends was that she pushed people away.

  The High Lady of the Scarlet Sisters had found Rose surviving on the streets of Maine when she was four. Rose barely remembered those days and the High Lady wasn’t one to relive old memories.

  From what little the High Lady told Rose, she had located her because of her abilities and had brought her here to the Arctic Circle, to the Ice Manor, to personally train her and keep her safe.

  The High Lady became all the family Rose had. She became all the family she needed. No, Rose didn’t need friends. Friends only disappointed. The High Lady was enough for her.

  Naturally, most of her colleagues hated her. And it didn’t help that the High Lady favored her above all of them and named her the Right-Hand Maid, which basically meant that when the High Lady died or gave up the throne, Rose would command the most powerful Levitators in the entire world.

  After her appointment, she’d tried reaching out to her colleagues to try and build alliances—after all, she couldn’t rule effectively without their help—but they rejected her.

  Not the younger Sisters, though. The younger Sisters adored her. Slowly, she was beginning to know what it meant to love someone other than the High Lady.

  It was at this cusp of real happiness that the High Lady was taken with a mortal affliction. Darkness once more flooded her life. Fear and uncertainty became her nightly meditations.

  What would life be without the High Lady?

  Another furious bang brought Rose’s attention back to Emily’s loud sobs at her door.

  “Come, Emily,” said the other girl. “Let’s go.”

  Rose heard their shuffling feet depart from her doorstep and vanish into silence down the long corridor.

  Rose had the strongest Wood power in the whole Ice Manor. As expected, she was the best option to teach younglings who had Wood power. Even though she didn’t have the strongest Earth power, her Earth power was pretty high, so she taught Earth Levitation as well.

  But then the group of young Sisters whose two powers were Earth and Wood considered Rose their mentor—even though they had a multitude of instructors—since this was her combination. Some even considered her a mother, regardless of her young age of eighteen.

  At the beginning when she isolated herself as a result of the High Lady’s worsening case, they understood. She needed time to grieve. Now she had taken too long a time and they wanted her back.

  Some of the older Sisters had offered her comfort, urging her to accept the inevitable.

  But Rose couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

  Overwhelmed, she started to sob again. After a while, she left her room and roamed the dark hallways of the massive fortress, hoping to clear her mind.

  The night was dark and absolute. There was neither a glimmer in the sky, nor were there tiny sparkles of starlight. Only an inky black void that carpeted the far reaches of the yonder.

  Silent whistles rode the sheets of wind, circling the massive stone halls and huge pillars of the Scarlet Sisters’ fortress, the Ice Manor.

  Rose had her thick woolen robes on, still, the coldness of the Arctic air pierced through her defenses like a knife through butter.

  Ever since the High Lady fell sick, the Earthlings just warmed the ground enough to keep the vegetation alive and not desolate like the rest of the barren wintery landscape that characterized the Arctic. Everyone else was charged to wear thick clothing and manage.

  The corridors were dimly lit by burning coal in the alcoves lining the wall. Normally, they should have been burning brightly, showering the halls with light. But ever since the High Lady had fallen sick, this was their custom: let our hearts and everything around us reflect the crestfallen state of our High Lady.

  This was more so for Rose, whose heart had darkened these few days.

  Even as she aimlessly roamed the halls of the Ice Manor, neither the intricate designs on the walls nor the artful statues in the many courtyards nor the beautiful gardens and blooming flowers, which she’d help Levitate into existence, piqued her interest.

  They could have been a burning pile of ash and she wouldn’t have cared.

  Passing by a corridor on the third floor of the northernmost wing of the Manor, Rose hea
rd the intense voices of a group of sisters training. She paused and looked over the stone railing.

  Spread across a vast area was a group of more than two hundred young girls dueling with another group of more than two hundred young girls. Rose couldn’t spot Emily from up here, but she was sure Emily was among the group of girls who were mastering how to combine Wood and Earth Levitating.

  Rose leaned against the rail guard and watched the girls for some time.

  After an hour of looking down at the ‘meaningless parade’ a voice called her name from behind. She turned to see Sister Cole towering over her.

  Dublin Cole. Rose’s nemesis. The author of her status as a social pariah, and the head of her hate group. She was as stunning as they came, with a sharp-pointed nose and tender blue eyes that could have fooled Rose, for Dublin was anything but tender.

  “Yes, Sister Cole,” Rose replied.

  Dublin folded her arms in defiance thereby warning Rose that her self-proclaimed nemesis was here to pick a fight.

  “We can’t keep this up, Rose,” Dublin said. “The High Lady is whiskers from death. We have to move her body to Maine. If not for the experts of Wood Levitating, at least that she may be among family when she dies.”

  Rose started to protest when Dublin held up her hand and said, “I’ve already given the order, Rose. I’m sorry but you’ve done your best growing all those herbs—which, if I may say, turned out to be worthless. It’s time for us to take over.”

  Anger flared up in Rose’s chest. She drew herself to full height.

  “You don’t have that authority!” Rose boomed.

  “As a matter of fact I do,” Dublin said. “The High Lady made me Mistress of Operations. As this is an operational decision, I have made the call. Vehicles have already arrived at the Manor. You can go with them if you want, but I am no longer going to let the High Lady suffer here.”

  Rose sniggered more out of confusion than out of spite for Dublin.

  “Well, I’m the acting High Lady and I rescind the order.”

  Dublin waved a finger over Rose’s face as though she were a toddler taking balderdash. Rose was further enraged.