Storm Of War

by Ugo, Kachi

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Peter said to the girl, slowly approaching her.

  Her eyes fell on him.

  “Peter, be careful,” Julian called from his position with the surrounding Woodfolks.

  Peter calmly tapped his power core. He felt the flare of power, the drain of his body’s strength, and the flame of pain in his chest. He ignored the last two and reached out to the girl.

  Sure enough, he felt the folds of power. They were like solid glass bubbles, malleable to the touch, yet impenetrable.

  Peter didn’t need to penetrate the field this time. He only needed to connect with it because of what usually happened when he connected with wood.

  “She’s not just a Woodfolk,” Peter said, then frowned. “She’s something…more.”

  Uncertainty flickered in her eyes.

  “You’re afraid,” Peter continued. The information flowed like trickles—Peter wasn’t sure why—but it flowed nonetheless.

  “You’re afraid,” he repeated, picking up on her emotions, moving slowly toward her. “You’re afraid, but not because of your identity. Something terrible has happened. That’s why you’re here. You need our help.”

  “Peter, what are you talking about?” Julian asked from behind. He sounded worried.

  Peter ignored Julian for a moment. The closer he got to the young lady, the stronger his connection to her grew, and the clearer he could read the information flowing out of her.

  And at their touch shall all living creatures reveal their secrets, the prophecy had said. So it is true?

  “She’s not here to fight,” Peter announced. “She’s here for our help.”

  “Uh, that’s what she said,” Sanders said, surprised. “Wait, how did you know that?”

  Ignoring Sanders’s question, Peter expanded his outflow of power to take a strong grasp of the young lady’s force field and superimpose on it. The flame of pain raged to a bonfire, the drain on his physical strength quickening, but Peter ignored them both. He just needed a few seconds more.

  “Rose is your name, isn’t it?” Peter asked.

  Shock appeared on her face. “How did you know that?”

  Then Peter tightened his grip on her folds of power.

  Rose’s eyes widened as she looked around in panic at her shrinking force field of power.

  “How are you doing that?” she asked.

  Peter smiled. “Doing what?” Then he flared his power more and squeezed harder, eventually shattering her folds of power.

  Rose’s power retreated into her body like a flood. Then again she lashed out for the nearest Woodfolk’s staff and yanked it out of his unsuspecting grip.

  Peter interdicted the staff midair and pulled it toward his waiting grip. He snatched the staff out of the air and stomped it into the ground. Then he let go of his power as black spots began to appear in his vision.

  Rose stared, confused, at him. Then she frowned in thought, and her eyes widened in recognition.

  “You are him,” she gasped.

  Before Peter could reply, Sanders yelled.

  “Peter has disarmed her. Get her!”

  “That’s enough!” Grey roared.

  Everyone turned.

  Grey was standing behind the surrounding Woodfolks, looking past the guards and locking his gaze with the girl. “She means us no harm.”

  Everyone cleared out of his way as he approached Peter and the girl. Peter stood to the side.

  Grey took one look at Rose, then his gaze fell to a curious signet ring on her finger. Its seal was an intricately designed pair of scarlet threads wrapping around each other as though waring, yet consolidating each other.

  Grey bowed slowly, took her finger, and then kissed the signet ring, leaving everyone around surprised.

  “You are Grey Crawford, Chief Elder of the Woodfolks,” Rose said.

  “Yes, I am,” Grey replied.

  “You know who I am?” she asked.

  “I know that ring,” Grey replied tentatively. “And I know what it means that you wear it.”

  Rose nodded, seemingly satisfied by Grey’s answer.

  “My son calls you Rose. Is he right?”

  “Your son is correct, Chief Elder,” Rose replied, glancing at Peter. “It is him, isn’t it?”

  Grey refrained from replying. “Shall we discuss this in private?”

  “I do not mind,” Rose said, “but I will have to talk to him as well.”

  “That is fine, High Lady,” Grey said. “Did you bring luggage?”

  “I did, in fact,” she replied. “I also came with my steward.”

  Grey turned to the crossover parked by the roadside. “Let the girl out,” he commanded. “Bring the luggage. They both have sanctuary.”

  Immediately, they opened the door for the younger girl to come out. She bounded straight for Rose’s waiting arms. The guards popped the trunk and retrieved two mid-sized pieces of luggage.

  “Please, this way.” Then Grey steered the teenage girl and her steward in the direction of the Tree House, a couple of Woodfolks bearing the luggage in tow.

  High Lady? Peter thought, wondering why Grey had spoken to the teenage girl with such reverence.

  “What was that all about?” Julian said, standing by Peter’s side.

  Peter shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out in due course.”

  They started walking toward the Tree House.

  “Look, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Julian said abruptly. “It’s about how I’ve been an ass since you came.”

  “It’s all right,” Peter said. “Besides, I probably deserved it.”

  “No, it’s not,” Julian replied. “I had no right to treat you that way. And some of the things I said? Totally unforgivable.”

  “Yeah, well, I forgive you.”

  They passed through the walkway. A couple of specialists were gathering around it, discussing how they were going to expand the entrance.

  “Do you know I’ve been so furious with you these past five years?” Julian asked as they meandered their way through the phalanx of chairs to the looming Tree House.

  “Because Mom died giving birth to me?” Peter ventured.

  “No,” Julian replied. “It’s because Mom gave you something special. A piece of her powers. It’s as if she gave you a piece of her soul. She reposed in you the responsibility to be better than her or her other children.

  “To be better than all of us. To rise up as our emancipator and finally deliver Woodfolks from the oppression of Metallics, which was her lifelong dream. But then you ran and desecrated her memories. It made me furious with you. But underneath all that, it made me bitter and sad.”

  Peter stumbled to a stop, stunned by Julian’s revelation.

  “I…” he stuttered, unsure how to respond to that.

  Julian sighed and clasped Peter’s shoulder. “Get some rest. There’s a Leaguers party out in the city later in the night.”

  “Where are you going?” Peter asked.

  “To make sure everything is ready for the Ceremony, then find Stephanie,” he replied. “See you later, bro.”

  ***

  It was dark when Julian came to wake up Peter for the party.

  “Meet me at the barrier in twenty,” Julian said then left.

  Peter took a quick shower, changed into comfortable clothes, then went outside.

  At night, the open field was absolutely beautiful. The canopy was a panoply of impressive colors: green, red, and white mixed in a radial pattern, terminating at the rugged wall of the Tree House.

  The chair arrangement matched the radial pattern of the canopy, coiling dizzily around a raised annular platform in the middle of the open field and the podium on top. Hanging from the ceiling at equidistant intervals were small light bulbs of different colors, giving the whole area a romantic feel.

  White plastic chairs designated for Sprouts occupied the firs
t four circles of chairs.

  Peter’s walkway had already been expanded to form a large archway, which was wide enough to admit three large vehicles driving in at the same time.

  On his way to the highway, Peter came across several large groups of guards. Every five minutes, a squad of aeronauts zipped over his head, scanning the woods. With the fence open, they couldn’t afford to take chances with security.

  Julian’s vehicle, a black Lexus Sedan, idled on the side of the highway. Peter hurried to it.

  “What took you so long,” said Julian as he pulled into the road.

  “I didn’t expect the arena to be so beautiful.”

  Julian smiled. “It is something.”

  “Who’s hosting the party?”

  “The Bishops.”

  “Great,” Peter whined.

  The loud music, screams, and disco lights crisscrossing the skies told Peter that they had arrived. With so many cars lining the streets they had to park far away from the Bishop’s mansion in the suburbs and walk the rest of the way.

  The Bishop’s mansion was a three-story structure built like a castle, with brick walls, grand sweeping grounds of lowly cut grass, and a long driveway leading from the wrought-iron gates to the large stone steps and heavy double doors of the main entrance.

  The gates were flung open and the grounds made up one large dance floor with at least a hundred crazy, partying young people.

  To one section by the parapets was a set of five barbecues, filling the air with the smell of roasted stake. To another section was a makeshift bar, keeping the party attendees filled and drunk. Although large speakers were set up on every corner of the grounds, the DJ was nowhere in sight.

  People roamed the mansion. Through every window, Peter saw people dancing, chatting, drinking, and screaming.

  “Just how many Leaguers are there?” Peter asked, dumbfounded. But Julian did not hear him over the loud music

  “Come on!” Julian yelled, leading him down the driveway to the main entrance. As soon as they entered through the open doors, Tim and Hope, Delphina’s younger sister, came to welcome them.

  “Hope!” Peter said in excitement, giving the girl a tight hug.

  “Hey, you!” Hope replied, hugging him back and not letting go. She was nineteen, two years younger than Delphina, and everyone knew she had a huge crush on Peter.

  When she finally let go, Julian took her arm and pulled her away from Peter.

  “Where’s Stephanie?” he asked her.

  “She’s out back by the pool,” Hope replied. Julian turned to leave, but she called after him.

  “Dad’s having a meeting with you guys in thirty,” Hope said.

  “We’ll be there,” Julian said and left the lobby.

  Hope pocked Peter. “So … wassup?”

  Peter shrugged. “I need a drink.”

  Hope led him to the small bar in a sweepingly massive living room and mixed him a drink. The music wasn’t so loud inside the building, although the building throbbed with every strike of bass from the external speakers.

  Peter tasted the drink and frowned. “Punch?”

  “There’re teenagers here,” Hope replied.

  “You’re a teenager,” Peter remarked.

  Hope giggled.

  “Nice dress, by the way,” Peter said.

  Hope’s smile broadened. Then she curtseyed, picked up the hem of her pink cocktail dress, and did a graceful spin. “You like?”

  Peter only nodded. “Hey, why haven’t you come say hello? Didn’t you hear I was back?”

  “Only just yesterday,” Hope replied with a frown. “No one tells me anything. Del lives in the Tree House all week and almost never spends time with me.”

  “Don’t you guys meet at the training facility?”

  Hope shook her head. “I…” she stuttered. “Let’s just say, I’m not exactly the ideal Woodfolk.”

  Peter cocked his head. “Is that so?” he said, smiling. Of course, he knew of her rebellious streaks. Hope, though a proficient Woodfolk, was something of an activist.

  Hope chuckled.

  “Hope!” came a stern voice from the adjacent staircase.

  Peter glanced at his side. Delphina stood on the staircase dressed in a purple denim jacket, black vest, and jean pants, wearing boots.

  Hope growled. “Such a buzzkill,” she announced with distaste. To Peter, she said, “Don’t be late. The anteroom. Twenty minutes.” And then she walked up the stairs, brushed past Del, and was gone.

  “Hi, Del,” Peter murmured.

  Delphina flashed him a weak smile and went up after her sister.

  There were a few Leaguers in the living room. Most of them were couples, either discussing or kissing. An older guy sat across from Peter, holding a cup of punch in one hand and pressing his phone with his other hand, bobbing his head to the rhythm of the music outside.

  Twenty minutes later, Peter downed his cup and headed up the stairs.

  The anteroom was as huge and sophisticated as Peter remembered. On every wall, corner, and available space there were antique artifacts made of brass, gold, wood, and rarer materials. Elder Bishop was one of those Woodfolks who wasn’t terrified by the prospect of having metal objects in their houses.

  The blue embroidered carpet was soft underneath Peter’s shoes. The air was cool but slightly stuffy from the puffs of cigarette smoke.

  Elder Bishop sat at the head of the table, fingering a fat Cuban cigarette and silently musing over some abstract thought as he stared into the air. To one side of the table were Elder Bishop’s wife—Jenifer—Julian, Stephanie, Brad, Dylan, and Delphina.

  On his other side were Greg and four other people he did not know. Peter sat on Greg’s side of the table, taking care to avoid Dylan’s withering gaze.

  “You probably don’t know this, Peter,” Elder Bishop started, clearing his throat, “but the organization you and your friends started several years ago has grown to be a very powerful force within our tribe.

  “The Woodland League has become a mainstream cult with great influence over our policy-making. Every young person wants to be a Woodland Leaguer because of what it represents. And it’s a good thing that Julian has not compromised on your admission standards. One out of every thousand, is it?”

  Julian nodded. “This year we received over a hundred thousand petitions from across forty-seven states. Only a hundred of the most powerful were accepted.”

  “It all started with Cynthia’s bravery and ultimate demise,” Jennifer said. “Ironic, yes, but inspiring that it should require her death to give the Woodland League the traction it needed to become what it is today and what it will be tomorrow.”

  “That is why this meeting holds here on the eve of every Sprouting Ceremony,” Elder Bishop continued.

  “As the Elder overseeing your operations, it is my responsibility to advise the leaders of the Woodland League and review their activities over the past year. However, considering the happenings of the last couple of days, we will skip a long boring meeting and just hear from Julian concerning his plans for the military.”

  Elder Bishop nodded for Julian to speak.

  “There’s not much to report,” Julian replied. “My father instructed for preparations to begin only after the Ceremony tomorrow. However, I do have the makings of a plan. I intend to recruit most of our people within one month, then train them to battle readiness in three weeks at the WRI facility in Cali.

  “They will then undergo another week of training here at the Tree House, after which they will be posted to their stations.”

  Julian went on to explain that the posting of Woodfolks will be largely based on original city of residence. However, some will be posted out of their city of residence, based on the needs of the military at the time. These ones will be taken care of by the Woodfolk community in the region.

  Julian’s plan also involved the Woodland League. Members of the Woodland Leagu
e would become commanders in the military. Some would command regiments while some would command battalions.

  “Once this is done,” Julian continued. “We will be ready to begin Project Genesis.”

  “Project Genesis?” Peter muttered.

  Julian glanced at Peter. “Didn’t you get the memo?” he asked.

  “What memo?” Peter asked.

  Julian shook his head and glanced at Dylan questioningly. “Seriously?” he said with a roll of his eyes.

  Dylan shrugged.

  “We will attack every Metallic base within Woodfolk territory,” Julian said. “That’s Project Genesis.”

  “Bold,” Peter observed.

  “Well, Peter,” Greg said, “As you probably already know, it is against the Accords for the Metallics to have an outpost in our territory. We’re simply enforcing the Accords.”

  “Be that as it may, the Metallics will see it as an outright attack,” Peter asked, this time looking directly at Julian.

  “Not if we warn them,” Julian said.

  “And lose the element of surprise?” Peter said. “I don’t mean to be a naysayer, Julian, but you have to realize that the last time we went up against them we had the element of surprise. Hell, we got lucky. And there were so few of them. Now they’ll be ready.”

  “We can’t just go up there and massacre their people,” Greg said. “We have to give them a chance to retreat.”

  “Which is more than what they did for us when they attacked us,” Brad muttered.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Elder Bishop said. “Chances are, the Metallics aren’t going to sit around and wait for us to come and attack. Not after what we did.”

  The meeting ended on that dreadful note, and they returned down to the party. Peter first went to the bar and grabbed another drink. It wasn’t alcohol, but it was cold nonetheless and it helped take off the edge.

  Not after what we did, Elder Bishop had said. Why did we attack them? Peter thought frantically.

  Peter refilled his drink and went out back to the pool, hoping the fresh open air would calm his nerves. He retreated to the shadows of the parapets and watched as everyone had fun. Then he looked up at the dark ominous clouds.

  A storm was coming. Peter could feel it in his bones.