Storm Of War

by Ugo, Kachi

  “So you’re saying the trees want my father dead?” Julian had asked.

  Doctor Wallace had only smiled. “No, Julian. The trees don’t want your father dead. The trees may be living, but they are not sentient, or at least I don’t think so. What I’m saying is, staying in an area where the trees have been corrupted will have its toll on your father’s ability to heal.”

  Julian remembered the first time he had been told about the history of Mount Desert Island and why it was so damn difficult to Wood Levitate there.

  Sometime around mid October of 1947, Maine had been struck with severe drought. This resulted in a conflagration that destroyed more than a hundred thousand acres of the Acadia National Park, much of which were on Mount Desert Island.

  Though the trees grew back with time, the region was forever marked by the furious flames of rage and forever scorched by scorn and hatred.

  It was the same for regions all around the world that had suffered catastrophic loss of life, be it trees, animals, or humans. The wood in these areas was infinitely more difficult to Levitate than the wood in other areas, usually making Woodfolks feel terrible, lifeless, sapped, until of course they adapted.

  Even then, there was the resistance, which they had to push against every time they Levitated—this wasn’t a very pleasant experience.

  Woodfolks, however, who were born and trained in these areas usually turned out to become some of the most powerful Woodfolks in the world. It was kind of like building muscles by lifting dead weights. The heavier the dead weight, the greater the resistance, the stronger you become.

  That’s not to say Woodfolks training in peaceful areas couldn’t become as strong. Only that the chances of one being a really great Woodfolk was higher in areas of great distress.

  Regardless, Julian hadn’t understood a word of what the doctor had said. What he did understand, however, was that his father was being kept in this special room to reduce the terrible effects of their unfortunate climate.

  But this hadn’t prevented his father from slowly wasting away. Julian had suggested that maybe the cause for this was the film of wood around the metal shrapnel in his blood that slowed the shrapnel’s progress to his heart—the one that had been Levitated into place by Doctor Wallace.

  “This could very well be the cause,” Doctor Wallace had replied. “However, you must understand that that film is the only thing keeping your father alive. If we take off the wood, the shrapnel will just go straight for the heart.”

  “So why can’t we just Levitate the shrapnel out?” Julian asked. “Don’t we already have it coated with wood?”

  “Because the shrapnel is much denser than the film of wood. We will need a thicker coat of wood if we’re going to achieve this. But I can’t introduce any more of the wooden powder into your father’s blood because his body might reject it much like an organ recipient might reject his transplanted organ.”

  “But you introduced a large amount of wooden powder into Dylan some days ago.”

  “Yes. They were medicinal herbs and they weren’t designed to remain in his bloodstream for days. They metabolized out of his blood in hours. This thing around the shrapnel in your father’s circulatory system, however, is designed to remain there for days. If I introduce more, I run the risk of triggering an immune response.

  “I’m sorry, Julian,” Doctor Wallace had said, “But the only way your father walks out of here is if my people and I can figure out a way to save him without further endangering his life.”

  Julian tried to push away the thoughts of his last conversation about his father with the doctor. It brought him nothing but grief and sadness. The feeling that there was nothing you could do other than to watch a loved one die was the worst curse that a man could be scourged with.

  Julian turned to look at his father again, and the tears pooling in his eyes escaped, scattering into droplets on the white sheet, which covered Grey from legs to chest.

  “Dad,” Julian started with a weak and shaky voice. Then he chuckled a bit, saying, “I have a bit of good news today. The police finally released the Tree House back to us today, after concluding their investigation. Yay.”

  Though his father remained as lifeless on the bed as before, Julian went ahead as though his father had replied with enthusiastic words.

  “I know right? Of course, our allies in the police department had a hand in it, especially in ruling that the incident was gang-related. But it’s great to have our old home back, Dad. I’ve already ordered a full-scale rebuilding of the Tree House. We bought wood by the truckloads. We are going to make the Tree House bigger and better. Don’t worry, Dad. We’re going to make everything just the way it was before the attack.”

  When he was done with the first part of his report, Julian found himself holding on to Grey’s limp hands as well as the sliver of hope that he might somehow awaken and ask him about the war effort.

  After waiting for what seemed like forever, Julian bowed his head for a moment, allowing the grief to wash over him. Then he looked up and began to talk about the war efforts.

  This was what he had sworn to do every day until his father recovered: to give him status updates on the state of things. That way, he wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with his responsibilities as War Commander.

  Julian started by talking about Peter and Delphina and how he had commanded them to go with Rose to seek the One, who they believed could save Grey and High Lady Regal.

  Though he knew that Peter was extremely powerful and that together with Rose they formed a formidable duo, he was still worried about Peter. Since he had left, Saturday night, Peter hadn’t called or texted.

  Okay, so maybe that was in Peter’s character, after all, he had managed for years without contacting them. But Delphina, too, hadn’t called or texted them to let them know about the state of their mission.

  Had they been captured? Had they been killed? Were they in danger? Had they found the One?

  The only reason Julian hadn’t gone out in search of Peter was because of his urgent responsibilities here in Maine. He had, however, decided that as soon as he had a little breathing space, he would go look for his brother. That was if Peter didn’t somehow get through to him before then.

  Julian went on to explain that the training facility had completed its conversion to their military base and that they had fully set up there. They had purchased a nearby land, which they intend to use as the new training facility.

  He explained that as per the decree, the military had begun large-scale constitution and mobilization and that all clans across continental America understood the risks they all faced and were cooperating fully.

  Drafting and training exercises had commenced and were progressing nicely. Also, they had begun the process of immediately militarizing some key facilities across the United States, like the Woodfolks Research Institute.

  To this end, he had sent a number of Leaguers to each key facility to oversee its militarization.

  Julian explained that he had formed the Central War Council from the leadership of the Woodland League, who were now actively, brutally training Woodfolks into warriors.

  Also, each member of the Central War Council was being advised by one of five WRI leaders, while Doctor Wallace served as Julian’s WRI adviser. There was one WRI leader left at the institute, however, to oversee research into the military application of some of their novel techniques.

  A training manual was being developed and was supposed to be ready before the end of the week. In about two weeks, it should have been published and distributed to every regiment across the country.

  Julian ended his report by telling Grey about his appointments for the first time. He started by telling Grey that most of them, since their appointment on Saturday and the events that unfolded, hadn’t been around much as they pursued the discharge of their duties.

  Everyone was busy training and building because he had given them a deadline of two weeks
to be ready for a protracted war with the Metallics.

  Julian hadn’t seen Stephanie since Saturday, too, and he was beginning to worry about her. He had called her several times but had only gotten her voice mail. He had no doubt she was safe; he just wanted to hold her in his arms.

  He knew he was being selfish seeing as they both had jobs to do, and Stephanie’s duties were the hardest among all his commanders.

  “I don’t know, Dad,” Julian said. “I guess I have the power to order her back to Maine from wherever she has gone to. I have struggled a lot with that decision, especially when I’m alone in the night and she’s not there.”

  He sighed, hoping it would release some of the tension setting his teeth on edge. It didn’t.

  “Anyway,” Julian continued. “Concerning my appointments. I made Stephanie the Director of Logistics. Brad Anthony is the Air Force Commander. Dylan Show is the Naval Defense Commander as well as the Head of Communications.

  “Dylan wasn’t really pleased when he found out I had sent Delphina off with Peter. He thinks I’m trying to help my brother win Delphina’s love. I don’t know, maybe I am, or maybe I’m not.

  “Anyway, Mark Zusaski is the Land Force Commander, while Gregory Arman is the Territorial Defense Force Commander.

  “I made Cathy the Commander of the Military Police Directorate because she’s a junior FBI agent and would know about detective work, while Melissa’s the Director of Military Tribunal and also head of the Disciplinary Committee because of her law degree.

  “I don’t yet have posts for Delphina Bishop and Brenda Lewis. For now, Brenda Lewis is assisting me at the HQ, and Delphina is away with Peter, who by the way, is second in command of the military as well as Director of Intelligence.

  “Probably before the war begins there will be more responsibilities that need capable people to handle.”

  Julian kissed his father’s forehead. “Bye Dad. I’ll be here tomorrow with more reports.”

  On his way out of the complex, he spotted Doctor Wallace, who was in the midst of a group of students, speaking with them. On seeing Julian walk across the large lobby, Doctor Wallace dispatched the students and called for him to stop.

  “Julian,” Doctor Wallace greeted, following Julian outside the complex. Together, they walked in the direction of Julian’s Rolls Royce parked on the other side of the complex.

  “Doctor Wallace,” Julian replied. “Any news concerning my dad?”

  Doctor Wallace shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Julian. But we are doing all we can to help your father.”

  “How is he doing in general?”

  Doctor Wallace drew a deep breath, taking his time to frame a reply. “Honestly, his condition has deteriorated since your visit yesterday.”

  They got to Julian’s car. Julian stopped to look at the doctor.

  Dressed in a white lab coat and holding a brown manila folder in his left hand, Doctor Wallace was a tall and brawny man with a handsome face and thick-rimmed spectacles perched across his nose. He was in his late thirties, without a kid and divorced.

  Or was he the one who had lost his wife to cancer? Julian wasn’t too sure. There had been a lot of deaths around him that he had lost count of whose relative was dead and why they had died.

  It was all about to change, Julian swore under his breath. Every life the Metallics had taken from them, they would take back ten fold. And when they were done, the only thing remaining of the Metallics would be the decayed sight of rust.

  “What are you doing about it, Doc?”

  “We have a specialist surgeon coming in from John Hopkins today. We are going to try and remove the shrapnel with the most advanced medical equipment. We’ll know more after the surgery.”

  Julian nodded. He was about to get into his car when Doctor Wallace held him back.

  “Did you want to tell me something?” Julian asked.

  “I get the urgency of our mobilization,” Wallace started. “And I get that you think that the WRI is a very powerful asset—”

  “You guys are,” Julian interdicted, angry. He and Doctor Wallace had had this conversation before.

  “But if we are all militarized, you are going to stop the innovative process, and what makes us unique and powerful will be lost. How long do you think it will take before we are no longer what you think we are?”

  Julian didn’t reply. He was sick of having this conversation over and over again with Doctor Wallace.

  “I am pleading with you and giving you a piece of advice as your adviser and friend. Leave a small group of WRI specialists to continue their research.”

  “My answer is still no, Doctor.”

  Doctor Wallace frowned. “What’s the purpose of being your adviser if you’re just going to ignore every bit of advice I give?”

  Julian got into his car and started the engine, then he lowered his window. Doctor Wallace was staring down at him, arms folded, and face twisted in anger.

  “That’s not a fair assessment, Doc. I do heed all your advice, just not this time. When we go to war, I want every Woodfolk on the battlefield, not in some lab finding better ways of turning black wood green.

  “Have a nice day, Doctor, and send me a report on the result of the surgery.” With that, he rolled his window back up and drove away.

  As soon as he returned to the military HQ, he received a curious message from Peter.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  S

  ince the day their son was born, Derrick and Susan had known the day would come when they would have to run to protect him. What they hadn’t anticipated was that they’d be running for twelve years!

  From their home in Minnesota to the relative safety of Alaska to the no-man’s lands of Chicago to the corporate high towers of New York, and lastly, to a peaceful border town in Maine.

  Although Joshua hadn’t yet come into his powers before his twelfth year, he, like every other offspring of Levitators, demonstrated an aptitude for Levitating the three solid matters at a very early age. And it didn’t take people long to figure out they were looking at an anomaly: an Alpha Levitator.

  Only very few remembered that there was a prophecy foretelling his birth, but they all seemed to figure out that he would grow to become the most powerful Levitator that had ever existed and that might possibly ever exist.

  It wasn’t necessarily a natural instinct to protect their son that drove Derrick and Susan Shiach to run. No, it was a baser instinct. It was fear.

  Fear that they might one day be captured and killed and that their son would be abducted and subjected to the servitude of reprehensible aims.

  Fear that when the time came and they had to stand and fight for their son, they might not be strong enough.

  Fear that losing their son was inevitable; it was only a matter of time.

  Then came anger. Anger bred from fear. They were like children who had a special weapon that everyone wanted and didn’t even know how to use.

  Having Joshua was the best thing that had happened to Susan, but when she realized that her child was the One of prophecy, she was filled with anger. Anger at herself for being an average Metallic who couldn’t even hold her own against her peers.

  But Derrick was no better. Though Metallics were hated among the three tribes, and though most Metallics were belligerent and agitative, not all of them were bad. Derrick and Susan were both pacifists and had great relationships with Earthlings and Woodfolks.

  From their youth, they had always resented the idea of being at war with people of their own kind. As such, instead of giving attention, like others, to training and sharpening their Levitating abilities for war purposes, they had focused on other things like literature and history.

  A lot of good that had done them.

  After over a decade of being on the run, they had finally found friends in Maine, who provided a house for them near the border and paid an unruly band of Metallics to keep watch. For up to two years
they had lived in peace, and Joshua was finally catching up on school work.

  Until the Metallics attacked Maine a few days back, and the Woodfolks retaliated in kind. The opening salvos of the first Levitators war in over a millennium.

  Cruel thing, fate.

  The fact that the Metallics’ attack coincided with Joshua’s twelfth birthday and the appearing of the first sign of the prophecy, the star of the One in the sky, aroused their suspicion. They had no doubt that many would have read the sign and understood its portent.

  And Marcus could be very blunt, but he was nothing if not strategic. He would have read the signs. He would have sent out his minions to seek them. To capture them.

  Still, they hoped. There was no use running from their refuge of two years on a simple suspicion. This hope was their undoing.

  The attack on the Tree House served as their panic button. They fled in such a hurry that they had left a lot of things behind, including the artifact in the secret compartment underneath the lobby.

  Three days they had been on the road. Direct bus service to Louisiana—just to throw off their pursuers—where they rented a car and began their final journey to Minnesota, their home state.

  It was a classical move. Because the last place people would think to look for them was the Iron Range of Minnesota.

  Now they had been on the road for a few hours. Susan rode shotgun, while Joshua slept in the back. They had avoided major roads and interstates, racing through a stretch of highway in the backlands of Iowa City, which would put them in Minnesota in the next eight hours.

  Susan’s window was down as she leaned out, breathing in a little of the rush of air against her face. Though they were free, Susan still felt terrified. Every minute of their lives was a danger.

  Susan glanced at Derrick for a moment.

  Derrick’s beard was overgrown, covering a portion of his worried face. His knuckles were tight and white on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead. The muscles around his eyes were taut and shaded by huge dark bags. His unkempt hair wriggled in the blast of wind coming in from the open windows.