The Queen of the Swords

And then Corum's attention was caught by a movement far out to sea. He craned forward as he rode and peered Into the distance.

'What is it?' she asked him.

'I am not sure. A big wave, perhaps. But this is not the season of heavy seas.' He pointed. 'Look.'

'There seems to be a mist hanging over the water a mile or two out. It is hard to observe. She gasped. 'It is a wave!'

Now the water near the shore became slightly more agitated as the wave approached.

'It is as if some huge ship were passing by at great speed,' Corum said. 'It is familiar…'

Then he looked more sharply into the distant haze. 'Do you see something - a shadow - the shadow of a man on the mist?'

'Yes, I do see it. It is enormous. Perhaps an illusion - something to do with the light…'

'No,' he said. 'I have seen that outline before. It is the giant - the great fisherman who was the cause of my shipwreck on the coast of Khoolocrah!'

'The Wading God,' she said. 'I know of him. He is sometimes also called the Fisher. Legends say that when he is seen it is an ominous portent.'

'It was an ominous enough portent for me when I last saw him.' Corum said with some humour. Now good-sized waves were rolling up the beach and they backed their horses off. 'He comes closer. Yet the mist follows him.'

It was true. The mist was moving nearer the shore as the waves grew larger and the gigantic fisherman waded closer. They could see his outline clearly now. His shoulders were bowed as he hauled his great net, walking backwards through the water.

'What is he thought to catch?' whispered Corum. 'Whales! Sea-monsters?'

'Anything,' she replied. 'Anything that is upon or under the sea.' She shivered.

The causeway was now completely covered by the artificial tide and there was no point in going forward. They were forced further back towards the trees as the sea rolled in in massive breakers, crashing upon the sand and the shingle.

A little of the mist seemed to touch them and it became cold, though the sun was still bright. Corum drew his cloak about him. There came the steady sound of the giant's strides as he waded on. Somehow he seemed a doomed figure to Corum - a creature destined to drag his nets forever through the oceans of the world, never finding the thing he sought.

'They say he fishes for his soul,' murmured Rhalina. 'For his soul.'

Now the silhouette straightened its back and hauled in its net. Many creatures struggled there - some of them unrecognizable. The Wading God inspected his catch carefully and then shook out the net, letting the things fall back into the water. He moved on slowly, once again fishing for something it seemed he would never find.

The mist began to leave the shore as the dim outline of the giant moved out to sea again. The waters began to subside until at last they were still and the mist vanished beyond the horizon.

Corum's horse snorted and pawed at the wet sand. The Prince in the Scarlet Robe looked at Rhalina. Her eyes were blank, fixed on the horizon. Her features were rigid.

'The danger is gone,' he said, trying to comfort her.

'There was no danger,' she said. 'It is a warning of danger that the Wading God brings.'

'It is only what the legends say.'

Her eyes became alive again as she regarded him. 'And have we not had cause to believe in legends of late?'

He nodded. 'Come, let's get back to the castle before the causeway's flooded a second time.'

Their horses were grateful to be moving towards the Sanctuary of Moidel's Castle. The sea was rising swiftly on both sides of the rocky path as they began to cross and the horses broke spontaneously into a gallop.

At last they reached the great gates of the castle and these swung open to admit them. Rhalina's handsome warriors welcomed them back gladly, anxious for their own experiences to be confirmed.

'Did you see the giant, my lady Margravine?' Beldan, her steward, sprang down the steps of the west tower. 'I thought it another of Glandyth's allies.' The young man's normally cheerful, open face was clouded. 'What drove it off?'

'Nothing,' she said, dismounting, 'It was the Wading God. He was merely going about his business.'

Beldan looked relieved. As with all the inhabitants of Castle Moidel, he ever expected a new attack. And he was right in his expectations. Sooner or later Glandyth would march again against the castle, bringing more powerful allies than the superstitious and easily frightened warriors of the Pony Tribes. They had heard that Glandyth, after his failure to take Castle Moidel, had returned in a rage to the Court at Kalenwyr to ask King Lyr-a-Brode for an army. Perhaps next time he came he would also bring ships which could attack from the seaward while he attacked from the land. Such an assault would be successful, for Moidel's garrison was small.

The sun was setting as they made for the main hall of the castle to take their evening meal. Corum, Rhalina and Beldan sat together to eat and Corum's mortal hand went often to the wine-jug and far less frequently to the food. He was pensive, full of a sense of profound gloom which infected the others so that they did not even attempt to make conversation.

Two hours passed in this way and still Corum swallowed wine.

And then Beldan raised his head, listening. Rhalina, too, heard the sound and frowned. Only Corum appeared not to hear it.

It was a rapping noise - an insistent noise. Then there were voices and the rapping stopped for a moment. When the voices subsided the rapping began again.

Beldan got up. 'I'll investigate…'

Rhalina glanced at Corum. 'I'll stay.'

Corum's head was lowered as he stared into his cup, sometimes fingering the patch covering his alien eye, sometimes raising the Hand of Kwll and stretching the six fingers, flexing them, inspecting them, puzzling over the implications of his situation.

Rhalina listened. She heard Beldan's voice. Again the rapping died. There was a further exchange. Silence.

Beldan came back into the hall.

'We have a visitor at our gates,' he informed her.

'Where is he from?'

'He says he is a traveller who has suffered some hardship and seeks sanctuary.'

'A trick?'

'I know not.'

Corum. looked up. 'A stranger?'

'Aye,' Beldan said. 'Some spy of Glandyth's possibly.'

Corum rose unsteadily. 'I'll come to the gate.'

Rhalina touched his arm. 'Are you sure…?'

'Of course,' He passed his hand over his face and drew a deep breath. He began to stride from the hall, Rhalina and Beldan following.

He came to the gates and as he did so the knocking started up once more.

'Who are you?' Corum called. 'What business have you with the folk of Moidel's Castle?'

'I am Jhary-a-Conel, a traveller. I am here through no particular wish of my own, but I would be grateful for a meal and somewhere to sleep.'

'Are you of Lywm-an-Esh?' Rhalina asked.

'I am of everywhere and nowhere. I am all men and no man. But one thing I am not - and that is your enemy. I am wet and I am shivering with cold.'

'How came you to Moidel when the causeway is covered?' Beldan asked. He turned to Corum. 'I have already asked him this once. He did not answer me.'

The unseen stranger mumbled something in reply.

'What was that?' Corum. said.

'Damn you! It's not a thing a man likes to admit. I was part of a catch of fish! I was brought here in a net and I was dumped offshore and I swam to this damned castle and I climbed your damned rocks and I knocked on your damned door and now I stand making conversation with damned fools. Have you no charity at Moidel?'

The three of them were astonished then - and they were convinced that the stranger was not in league with Glandyth.