The Way of the Wilderking by Jonathan Rogers

than I figured on!” He felt sure he would fit in fine among the civilizers if they were all like this red-bearded fellow. He hopped a circle around the Hustingreener with his fists raised. “Come on, civilizer,” he called, “let’s mix it!”
    Dobro’s opponent looked at him with astonishment. “Who are you?” he asked. Dobro stopped hopping. Of course! A feechie fight had to start off with a rudeswap. A civilizer fight, apparently, had to start off with introductions. He was still learning civilizer ways. “I’m Dobro Turtlebane,” he said, “from Bug Neck.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing southwest toward the swamp he called home.
    â€œBug Neck?” said the red-bearded man. “Never heard of it.”
    â€œYou know, Bug Neck,” Dobro repeated. “A day’s polin’ east of Scoggin Mound?” The villager still looked blank. Dobro was a little annoyed. “In the Feechiefen!”
    The three Hustingreeners squinted at Dobro. “Feechiefen?” one of them muttered. Then it dawned on them. No wonder this fellow looked so strange and acted even stranger. “He’s a feechie!” one of the men gasped.
    The three men stared wide-eyed at one another. The sandy-haired one was the first to speak. He quoted a snatch of the Wilderking Chant: “‘Leading his troops of wild men and brutes.’” And together the three of them quoted the next line in reverent tones: “‘Watch for the Wilderking!’”
    â€œThis is a sign,” the red-bearded man said to his companions. “This fellow’s a sign, I’m telling you. If there’s a feechie in Hustingreen, Aidan Errolson can’t be far behind.”
    â€œYou said something there, feller,” Dobro said.“Matter of fact, he ain’t no more’n five or six steps behind.”
    The Hustingreeners looked past Dobro to Percy and Aidan. They had found Dobro so peculiar that they had paid very little attention to the civilizers with him. Aidan’s looks had changed since he had last gone to market in Hustingreen, but now that they had a good look at him, the three villagers recognized him.
    â€œAidan Errolson,” one of them said in hushed tones.
    â€œHail to the Wilderking,” said another. His eyes were glistening with tears of joy.
    The three Hustingreeners elbowed past each other to be the first to kneel at Aidan’s feet.
    â€œYour Majesty!”
    â€œOur king in exile, returned to us!”
    â€œCommand us, our sovereign!”
    Their voices quivered with emotion.
    â€œGet up! Get up!” Aidan demanded. There was anger in his voice. Embarrassed, he looked around to be sure no one else had seen this unseemly display. “Your king is Darrow, not me,” he said sharply as he waded through the kneeling Aidanites.
    â€œListen to him,” said one of the Aidanites as they scrambled to their feet to follow him. “He’s so humble.”
    â€œNothing like King Darrow. Not like King Darrow at all.”
    â€œThat’s what Corenwald needs in a king—somebody who’s not going to try to grab all the power for himself.”
    Aidan stalked with long strides toward the village, and Percy and Dobro strode with him. The three Aidanites trotted to keep up.
    â€œI’m Milum,” said the red-bearded fellow, “and this is Burson and Wash.” Aidan didn’t even acknowledge them and didn’t offer to introduce his brother Percy who, though he understood this was a serious situation, was finding it very hard not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
    â€œWe just knew you’d come straight to Hustingreen when you came back.” Milum had begun speaking so fast he could hardly catch his breath. “I remember when you were a boy. You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you. You’d come on market days, and one day you kicked a ball under my