Read Online The Way of the Wilderking by Jonathan Rogers - Free Book Online Page A

Errolson’s friendship and love for the king.
    Back at the palace, King Darrow the jealous
Mused on the murder he’d planned.
Imagine his gloom when the boy he had doomed
Marched in with the orchid in hand.
    Aidan soon understood that his gift was no good,
So he wheeled and ran swiftly away.
He returned again to the deep Feechiefen,
And there he has stayed to this day, boys.
There he has stayed to this day.
    The crowd was delighted, but Aidan had heard enough. He pushed his way to the front and mounted the platform. The crowd roared at the sight of him, and the chant quickly arose again: “Hail to the Wilderking! Hail to the Wilderking!”
    â€œQuiet!” Aidan shouted over the noise. “Be quiet! Let me speak!”
    Gradually the noise subsided enough for Aidan to make himself heard. “People of Hustingreen!” he yelled. “You have a king! His name is Darrow!”
    Hissing sounded from the audience. “Darrow ain’t my king!” a voice called.
    â€œHail to the Wilderking! Hail to the Wilderking!”
    â€œNo!” Aidan shouted. “No! This is treason! This is a gathering of traitors!”
    Percy watched with some concern as smiling faces turned sullen and grumbling rumbled across the village square.
    But Aidan didn’t care. “I will have no part of this.” He remembered something Bayard the Truthspeaker had told him years before, and he repeated it to the Hustingreeners. “A traitor is no fit king. How can a man be king of Corenwald if he betrays the king of Corenwald?”
    Quizzical looks contorted a few faces as Aidan’s hearers tried to work out the tricky logic of the question.
    â€œLooks to me like Darrow’s the traitor,” the village blacksmith shouted. “The way I figure, he’s the one who ain’t fit to be king!” Heads began noddingagain. People were slapping the blacksmith’s back and shaking his hand.
    Aidan could tell he was losing them again. “People of Hustingreen! Aidanites!” he yelled, straining to be heard. “It is not your job to make the ancient prophecies come true!”
    â€œWe ain’t making the prophecies come true,” Wash yelled back. “You’re doing a fine job of that your own self!” The crowd laughed and whooped in appreciation. Wash pressed his advantage. “Aidan Errolson, did you or did you not kill a panther with a stone?”
    â€œWell, yes,” Aidan admitted. “But …”
    â€œHe did, he did!” Dobro yodeled. “I seen it with these two eyes!” Dobro had gotten caught up in the mob’s enthusiasm. But a stern look from Aidan silenced him.
    â€œâ€˜With a stone he shall quell the panther fell!’” Wash triumphantly quoted the Wilderking Chant, sticking his chest out and jabbing a finger in Aidan’s direction.
    â€œâ€˜He will silence the braggart, ennoble the coward,’” piped an old veteran, also quoting from the chant. “I was there at Bonifay, young man. I saw that braggart giant go silent. I was one of the warriors of Corenwald who were ennobled again in our most fearful hour.”
    â€œWhere you been these three years, Aidan Errolson?” asked a woman Aidan recognized as the village baker.
    â€œFeechiefen,” Aidan mumbled.
    â€œI’m sorry,” the woman called sweetly. “I didn’t hear that last part.”
    Aidan cleared his throat and spoke more loudly. “The Feechiefen Swamp.”
    â€œInteresting,” the woman said. Then she lowered her voice for dramatic effect and recited the last three lines of the Wilderking Chant:
    Look to the swamplands, ye misfit, ye outcast.
    From the land’s wildest places a wild man will come
    To give the land back to his people.
    â€œI’m ready to get my land back!” bellowed somebody in the back.
    â€œMe too!” yelled another. “When do we get started?”
    The village square