Chapter 1 #2
His vague answer seemed completely satisfactory to Henry, and Darby’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them in curiosity. “I’m Darby,” she said brightly, holding out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
The man eyed her hand for a moment, as if debating whether or not to take it. Finally, he gave in, clasping her hand in a hearty shake. “Not officially, but I know who you are. You’re that surgeon’s assistant. Name’s Robertson.”
Darby’s smile faltered just a moment at the assumption, but she brushed the annoyance to the side, studiously ignoring the telling look that Henry was giving her.
“Actually, Dr. Fransten is my mentor. I just graduated from the Academy of Magic and Science with a focus in human anatomy. Once I complete my internship this year, I will be able to test for my medical license.”
Robertson blinked slowly, his face impassive. “Those were a lot of words to say that you assist him.”
She breathed out a humorless chuckle as she pulled her hand back and dropped it to her side. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Make no mistake, Darbs could take over for that old doctor at the switch of a steam valve, if he’d ever let go of his ego long enough to let her,” Henry grumped, reaching across the counter to lay a heavy arm on Darby’s shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to offend.” Robertson stopped with his cup halfway to his lips, holding up his free hand in a placating gesture. “I’m sure Miss Shelton is more than qualified.”
Darby tilted her head. “How did you know my name?”
“Like I said—I know who you are.” Robertson lifted his mug in a tiny salute, then tilted his head back and quickly downed its contents, apparently unbothered by the scalding temperature of the liquid.
He set the empty cup on the counter and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.
“Thanks for the brew, Henry. I’m sure I’ll see you around. ”
With a last nod in Darby’s direction, he left. The door clanged shut behind him, and for a moment the only sound echoing in the coffee shop was the ringing of the bell hanging from the doorframe.
“I think he could have used at least another cup,” Darby remarked, finally breaking the silence and turning her attention back to the half-empty drink in front of her.
Henry snorted. “That’s just Robertson. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got a good heart once you get to know him.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.” She grinned over her mug at him. “No wonder you two are friends.”
“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far. Robertson doesn’t have friends, far as I know. He served as a captain when the war with Lavenza first started—piloted war ships for years until they moved him. Not many remember, but Mavoria experimented with using balloons for a time.”
Darby’s brows shot up. “Balloons? Like the big hot air balloons with the baskets?”
“That’s them. The idea was that they could approach silently from above and therefore bring an element of surprise.
But what the leaders at the top didn’t stop to consider was that wind is much harder to navigate than water, and far less predictable.
Not to mention that the balloons can be nearly as slow as my grandmother, and the weight restrictions make them almost impossible to defend.
Robertson’s balloon was shot down, and he and his four-man crew were taken prisoner. ”
An instinctive wince pulled at Darby’s face.
The Lavenzians were notorious for their harsh and often cruel treatment of Mavorian captives.
Some of their bloodthirst had seemed to wear off as the war stretched on into its second decade, but the stories that came out of the first years were enough to chill the blood of even the staunchest of men.
She set her empty cup on the counter and turned it slowly back and forth. “How did he escape?”
“Don’t know. He’s never talked about it with anyone. All I know is that he fell behind enemy lines with four of his closest friends and he came back alone. He was discharged from the military, and he’s kept to himself ever since.”
Darby suddenly felt much more forgiving of his blunt and brusque manners. “What does he do now? He mentioned—”
The deafening boom of an explosion cut off her words, shaking the walls and causing the ceramic dishes to rattle on the shelves.
The sharp pops of distant gunfire followed not more than a few seconds later.
Darby jumped to her feet so quickly she knocked her chair down, though the sound was covered up by a second, smaller blast. The bells in the church three blocks away added to the chaos, tolling a warning signal for every civilian within the city to take cover.
“That sounded closer than usual.”
Henry quickly rounded the counter. “From the orchards, would be my guess.”
Without another word, Darby dashed out the door and onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding being knocked over by a group of panicked pedestrians.
She hurried down the walk, for once thankful for her unusual height and broad frame as she fought against the flow of traffic to make her way to the hospital on the corner.
The sound of another loud explosion ripped through the air, eliciting terrified sobs and screams from the quickly-thinning crowd around her.
A breeze brushed her cheek, its gentle caress at odds with the acrid, burning smell of black powder and smoke it carried from the apple orchards south of town.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sounds of fighting ceased.
The bells still tolled, and in the eerie emptiness, Darby could imagine the anguished screams of the dying soldiers that would soon be filling the halls of the hospital.
She shouldered her way through the front door, a grim set to her jaw as she started rolling up her sleeves.
The battle might be over, but her work was just beginning.