The Queen of Swords Read Free Page A

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 for ever 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