Jonathan Rogers - The Secret of the Swamp King

“That’s when the fun would commence. ’Cause the spear had a long vine attached to it, and Granddaddy hung on to that vine for a owdacious ride. Up the river. Down the river. Across the river.” Hyko zigzagged around the seep hole, pretending to be towed this way and that. “He’d hang on, and that ugly old sturgeon would pull the boat ever which way until he just played out.

“But Granddaddy was a little feller, and sometimes the big fish’d pull the vine right out his hands. He lost two fish in one morning that way-two good spears too. He told his fishing buddies he didn’t aim to miss the next one.

“Sure enough, he speared him a third sturgeon that morning. And this’n didn’t pull the vine outta Granddaddy’s hands. It pulled him clean outta the boat, but Granddaddy wouldn’t turn loose. It dragged him underwater. Granddaddy still wouldn’t turn loose. Ever now and then his head popped out of the water, first here, then there, now way over yonder.” He pointed another zigzag. “But still he wouldn’t turn loose.

“The sturgeon finally played out, and Granddaddy’s buddies fished Granddaddy and the fish both outta the river. They hung Granddaddy upside down from a tree limb just to drain all the water out him. But they figured out why he didn’t let go of that vine: He’d done tied it ’round his waist! He couldn’t have let go if he’d a wanted to.” Aidan and the feechies hooted with laughter. “And from that day to this,” concluded Hyko, “all my people been called Vinesturgeon.”

Aidan applauded Hyko’s performance. He was fascinated by the feechies’ naming customs. “So Dobro Turtlebane,” he asked, “where does his name come from?”

“Oh, the Turtlebanes are a clan of fierce turtle hunters,” answered Hyko, “the bane of turtles’ existence.”

“How about your cousin, Theto Elbogator?”

Hyko was ready with that story too. “There’s a crook of the Tam the feechiefolks calls the Elbow. Used to be a big alligator lived there. We called him the Elbow gator. He’d smash up boats that floated through, eat whatever folks fell out. Theto kilt that alligator. Ate him too. Ever since, his family’s been called the Elbogators. Before that, they was just plain old Sands, like Orlo and Pobo there.”

Aidan was confused. “I thought you weren’t related!” he said, looking at Orlo and Pobo.

“We ain’t,” answered Pobo. “Sands is just the name you get stuck with if you or none of your folks ain’t done nothing special.”

“If you ain’t kilt no ravaging critters or won no contests or half-drownded yourself chasing after a fish, folks just call you Sands,” Orlo explained.

“We’re just as common and no’count as dirt, I reckon,” moaned Pobo. “So folks calls us Sands.” Orlo and Pobo both looked to be on the point of tears, and the other feechies were quick to offer words of assurance.

“You’ll get you a name one of these days.”

“You boy’s ain’t all that no’count.”

Hyko thought about giving Pobo a hug, but Pobo drew back as if to punch him in the nose. Hyko changed his mind, thinking it better to change the subject instead. “Pantherbane,” he called, “how come you’re out here nearbout to Feechiefen, instead of across the river where civilizers belong?”

Aidan decided to tell the whole truth on that score for the first time since he left Tambluff. “I’m going into the swamp to fetch a frog orchid for King Darrow.”

“You?” asked Jerdo, a little sarcastically. “Headed into Feechiefen alone?” The feechies all laughed at the idea of a civilizer-even Pantherbane himself-venturing into the Feechiefen alone.

Aidan ignored their mocking laughter. “I was hoping I could find a feechie guide. Do any of you know where the frog orchid grows?”

The feechies just shrugged. “I don’t know ’bout no frog orchid,” said Hyko. “The Feechiefen is full of orchids-pink orchids, white orchids, yellow orchids, purple.”

“Some of them bigger around than your head,” offered Orlo. “Some of them would set on your finger-nail.”

“There’s orchids that grows on the ground, orchids that grows on trees,” said Tombro.

“Some orchids grows on other orchids,” Hyko continued. “I’ve seen orchids shaped like a turtle, orchids shaped like a gator’s mouth. There’s some that smells like rotten lizard eggs. But the one you call a frog orchid, I don’t know what that is.”

Aidan’s face fell. He had assumed that any feechie he met in the swamp would be able to take him straight to the frog orchid. “So you’ve never heard the Frog Orchid Chant?” The feechies all shook their heads. Aidan recited a couple of lines to see if it jogged anyone’s memory: “In deepest swamp, in house of bears, / An orchid in the spring appears.”

“House of bears?” snorted Jerdo. “That don’t narrow things down too much. Ever dry spot in the swamp’s a house for bears.”

“Unless it’s talking about Bearhouse Island,” suggested Orlo.

“Well, I ain’t guiding nobody to Bearhouse!” yawped Pobo.

There was a general grumble of agreement.

“Me neither!”

“I heard that!”

“Uh-uh, not me.”

“I’m skeered of Bearhouse Island,” confessed Hyko, “and I’m fearless.”

“Where’s Bearhouse?” asked Aidan.

“Spang in the middle of the swamp,” Hyko said. “Five days’ poling from the swamp edge.”

“That’s five days for a feechie, born and raised in the Feechiefen,” put in Orlo. “And that don’t count the time you’d spend fighting off the biggest alligators in the swamp.”

“But even that ain’t the worst part of it,” continued Jerdo. “The worst part’s the feechiefolks that runs things on Bearhouse.”

“Chief Larbo’s band,” Hyko explained. “And them boys is mean.”

“Aren’t all feechies mean?” Aidan asked.

“Well, sure,” said Pobo, with a hint of pride in his voice, “but we ain’t talking about regular feechie mean. Folks that’s too nasty to live with the rest of us, that’s who joins up with Larbo’s band.”

“Folks what don’t care a lizard’s tail for the Feechie Code,” said Orlo.

“Folks what don’t love their mamas.” Tombro shivered as he said it.

The feechies’ description of Larbo’s band of outlaws made Aidan think of the attacks on Last Camp. “Somebody’s been attacking a hunting camp on the other side of the river,” he said. “I think it’s feechies. Could it be Larbo’s band?”

“On the civilizer side?” Tombro shook his head. “Even Larbo wouldn’t attack on the civilizer side.”

“But they shot from the treetops,” said Aidan. “And when they ran away, they ran away through the treetops. Civilizers can’t do that.”

Hyko’s brow wrinkled. “That do sound like feechiefolks…”

“You say they was shooting,” said Tombro. “What kind of arrows did they shoot?”

“I saved one,” said Aidan. He pulled the white-feathered arrow out of his quiver and handed it to Tombro.

“See there?” said Tombro triumphantly. “Cold-shiny arrowhead. Can’t be feechie.”

“But that shaft…” Hyko began.

“What about it?” Tombro retorted.

“It’s black bamboo. Feechiefen’s the only place where black bamboo grows. A civilizer couldn’ta made this arrow.”

Taking the arrow from Tombro, Orlo fingered the white feathers. “Egret feathers,” he observed. “Few days ago, me and Pobo come up on a egret rookery where somebody’d kilt all the birds and left them dead on the ground-just plucked out the big plume feathers and left them there.”

“Pitifullest thing I ever seen,” said Pobo.

“Plume hunters are shooting out the rookeries on the civilizer side too,” said Aidan.