by Nova Rose
* * *
Shouts resounded around them. Looking up, Rybnik watched as a mob of people dressed in rags approached dragging a wounded Arnin behind. They threw the man to the ground.
“We want these people out of here,” screamed one man indicating those stricken with the disease.
“And we want more food,” yelled a woman waving her fist.
Cautiously, Rybnik unsheathed his sword and stepped away from the sick. He approached the mob holding tightly to his blade.
“Tesnayr gave us orders and you will follow them,” said Arnin through a fattened lip.
“Shut up,” said the man kicking Arnin in the stomach.
Instantly, Rybnik grabbed the man by the arm, breaking it at the elbow, and shoved him back into the crowd. “What goes on here?” he yelled.
“We’re tired of waiting here while more people fall sick,” replied the woman.
“That doesn’t matter,” replied Rybnik, “We have our orders from Tesnayr to wait here.”
“Where is he?” asked a voice in the crowd.
“He abandoned us,” said another.
Agreements rose up all around.
Another man charged Rybnik. He rammed the hilt of his sword into the man’s chest before knocking him on the back of the head with the flat part of the blade. The man doubled over allowing Rybnik to push him back into the mob. “I’ll kill any who dare cross this line!” Rybnik scraped his foot across the dirt.
“As will I,” said Idæas, walking up from the side.
One by one, the crowd turned back. Something in Rybnik’s voice motivated them to leave.
“Here,” said Nelyn, helping Arnin to his feet.
“Oh, I’ll be alright,” Arnin waved her away. “They jumped me when I least expected it.”
“Take him to the others,” said Rybnik. He started to leave.
“Where are you going?” asked Idæas.
“Unrest is brewing. I intend to put it down.”
Idæas snatched his bow, “I’m coming with you.”
