KINGDOM OF THE STONE -- a Wattpad featured novel

Chapter Eighteen

It took a sennight from the spring thaw before the news of the attack on Pelavale reached Nur in the south. It struck like an earthquake shaking the worldview of the entire city to its core. The angorym were more likely to be found in old wives' tales than in the lands of men. They were a thing to frighten children with so they would not stray too far from home but they were not the sort of thing an adult would normally fear. Once in a lifetime, in a hard winter, one might wander down out of the northern mountains to catch some poor lone victim or steal a few animals. If some isolated household were to be dragged away and eaten, it was the sort of story that grandfathers would tell their unbelieving grandchildren.

But then the first grim-faced and hunched-shouldered survivors trudged into the city radiating a smoldering fear that leaped from person to person like an invisible fire. The citizens rushed the markets, fighting over what desiccated food had managed to out-last the winter.

Many hid themselves in their homes, fearing an imminent attack of angorym straight out of the valley. Others re-discovered a long neglected faith and ascended the hill on the north-east side of the city to shout, sing or whisper their prayers for deliverance to the Holy Mountain.

The city elders met, as was their custom, in the market plaza between the fountain and Tonwill's ale house. Though, if the truth were told, they were closer to the ale house than the fountain. It was their practice to sit and exchange gossip until some group of citizens locked in an argument came to lay their complaints before the elders and receive their wisdom.

On this day they suffered from a lack of visitors as the chaos of the markets had ceased with the disappearance of food, and so they were forced to repeat again the rumors they had already discussed of the angorym's actions and speculate endlessly on what they might mean. They had drunk and talked themselves into a bored stupor when a young man came striding purposefully down the street.

He wore a fine linen tunic over tailored trousers and new suede shoes. In a sash tied around his waist he had tucked a ridiculously over-sized knife. Tied around his shoulders, he wore a long cloak fashioned from a shaggy black pelt. Over that a long fang dangled on a leather thong. In his hand he carried a strange short spear with extra-long sharp spearheads fashioned at both ends. The thing looked as dangerous to the wielder as the people around him, yet he carried it purposefully and planted one sharp tip confidently in the hard-packed ground as he came to a stop before the elders, presenting a strange image of both civilization and barbarity.

The elders were used to people coming up and announcing their problems but Amantis just stood waiting until their muttering ceased and one of them spoke.

"Do you have a problem we can help you with?"

"No. But I believe you do."

This got the attention of all fourteen elders. Twenty-seven eyes stared back at him from beneath furrowed or raised brows. "And what problem would that be?"

"The angorym."

"What? How do you mean?"

"Who are you?"

"Where do you come from?"

"My name is Amantis. I assist Corago the merchant in his business."

"I've heard Corago has a sharp new assistant," one elder said.

"I've heard its best to count your kerma before and after you deal with him," another frowned.

"The complaints of jealous competitors," Amantis dismissed the accusation with a casual wave of his hand.

"Are you saying you know something about the angorym?"

"I've been telling everyone this was going to happen for nearly a year now."