Aethosphere Chronicles: Storm of Chains by Jeremiah D. Schmidt

impeding dread of what was to come next. The fugitive
bureaucrat had had enough. He grumbled at the approaching figure,
saying unkindly, “I’m fine. I would rather just be left alone until
the soldiers come for me, if it’s all the same to you.”
    “I’m sure you would,” muttered the doctor in
a low growl. The man’s voice was rough and deep, and not as Drish
remembered it from yesterday; and when he looked up, he found the
doctor staring back down at him. A dreadful connection to his
nightmare was forged in that instant, and he looked away from the
man’s fierce yellow eyes, up to the wisps of red hair protruding
from just under his medical cap.
    No…this isn’t the same doctor from
earlier at all. This is someone else; someone else entirely. Drish couldn’t shake the feeling he got from the man’s
devil-be-damned eyes either. He’d seen them before, staring at
him— just before the butt of an imperial rifle sent me here .
Drish wanted to cry out for help when he realized who this was. Bar Bazzon…Here! He’s come for me! Arvis must have told this
pirate the damning truth for him to risk this place in order to
exact his revenge for my betrayal… Help! But he found his voice
had failed. Only a garbled gagging broke the silence between
them.
    “Keep quiet,” snapped Bar as he slapped a
hand over the collaborator’s mouth.
    Suffocation , that was to be his
method? Terrible suffocation, and with no way for Drish to save
himself? His hands were bound and all he could do was thrash his
head from side to side.
    Suddenly there was movement at the door; a
nurse and an orderly had appeared; and with them they pushed a
gurney into the room.
    I’m saved! “Mmm mmm mmmm!” Drish
struggled desperately to scream through the brute’s calloused hand.
Or was he? Neither seemed particularly concerned that this doctor
was trying to smother him, even when they looked right at him.
Instead, they hastily shoved the gurney his way until it crashed
into the IV rack next to the bed, and sent it smashing to the
floor. Terrified confusion gripped Drish’s heart in runaway beats.
Again he tried to shake the hand away, but it was locked in place;
powerful and rough against his dry lips.
    The nurse leapt to the bedside and tore away
her mask, and Drish could hardly believe his eyes.
    “ Abigail! Have you come to witness my
demise as well?” He accused in muffled vowels, though he found
he couldn’t fault her if she had.
    “Bar, you’re going to kill him before we’ve
even had the chance to save him.”
    “Sorry, Abby, but he won’t shut up. Tried to
tell him it was me, but he went crazy the second he laid eyes on
me. I don’t know what his problem is?”
    “Glad to see me, Drish,” Abigail spoke
tenderly, and there was her beautiful face leaning in close to his.
He could smell the jasmine perfume, light and flowery, on her
supple skin. “I’m glad to see you. We’re going to get you out of
here, so please, be quiet. Are you going to do that for me?”
    The girl was as radiant as ever, and Drish
was compelled to nod; even if he believed Bar was here to kill him.
How could the pirate not, after the look he’d had given him in the
foundry—one of pure vengeful rage. How could the man not want him
dead? But then there was Abigail’s face to stay his fears. It was
filled with kindness, even if it was clear she had been crying
recently; morning Arvis no doubt.
    Could he really have meant that much to
her?
    Drish had yet to shed his own tears on his
father’s behalf, and yet this girl, who only days ago had been a
stranger, was more distraught over the death of his father than he.
It was clear Arvis had lived a double life, but who could ever have
imagined to this extent. Drish realized he had never truly known
his father at all in his final days.
    Abigail moved in closer, so close he could
feel the warmth of her breath on his forehead, and the downy hairs
of her arms on his own as she worked the straps. He watched