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“Callum.”
In the dim light of the fading sun, Callum could hear Harrow’s voice as though his father were standing next to him. He smiled at that, lost in the half-daydream of a day long past. He’d been five or six at the time and the king had gifted him with a very special gift.
Callum’s fingers traced along the etched binding of the sketch book. He’d loved that gift so much that Harrow had given him a new one every year on his birthday. It wasn’t the only birthday gift he’d received every year and there was never any surprise to it, but it was the one that had meant the most. It was the one that he could always count on and the one that never went unused.
“Callum.”
He smiled up at the figure cast in shadow above him. Harrow had always carried so much warmth and love in his eyes for them. So much affection. He’d been a good father, despite the distance he’d kept over the years, and Callum lamented the fact that it had taken him so long to call him ‘dad’. Ezran had always poked at him about it, encouraging him to call him father, and there was no real reason that Callum hadn’t. It simply had never felt right. Or… like his place. He was just a stepchild after all. Not blood.
“Callum!”
Startled, Callum jumped slightly and blinked. Rayla was glaring at him, the concern in her eyes all but eclipsed by her very apparent annoyance.
“Rayla! Sorry! I was… just… thinking. Sorry,” he mumbled in explanation.
She arched a brow at him, arms crossed over her chest. “About what?” she inquired, dropping her arms to her sides before she perched on the ground in front of him, legs crossed beneath her.
Callum shrugged a shoulder, his gaze dropping to the ground between them. “I… my birthday is in a few days,” he mumbled. “And I just…” Callum shrugged again. “Miss him.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between them and he looked up to find Rayla’s cheeks flushed red and her gaze focused on anything but him. She looked guilty; sad even. Even after the many days they’d spent together and his constant reassurance that he did not blame her for Harrow’s fate, Rayla held on to her guilt.
“Callum,” she murmured finally and he shook his head.
“It’s not your fault, Rayla,” he interjected with words he’d said many times now.
She looked back to him, eyes widened slightly. Callum offered her a small smile. None of it had been her fault. Yes, she could have told him the truth of Harrow’s fate sooner, but her omission didn’t change the fact that she’d tried to stop the attack. It didn’t change the fact that she’d done nothing but try to protect Ezran and him since.
“I haven’t forgotten what brought you to Katolis, Rayla. But I also haven’t forgotten what you’ve done since. You’ve protected us. Protected me.” Callum’s smile grew wistful and he looked down to the sketchbook in his lap. “Harrow would have liked that. He would have thanked you.”
Rayla snorted softly and Callum looked up to meet her gaze again. “I don’t know that your father would have thanked me at all, but it’s a pretty thought.”
Silence settled between them again and Callum traced his finger along the etched leather of the book. “He gave me this. He realized how much I loved to draw when I was little and so every year, on my birthday, he’d give me a new one. It was… it was our thing. His and mine. It was the way he began to bridge the gap between us that my birth father left when he died.”
“Would you…” Rayla paused and Callum looked up to find her looking uncertain, eyes glistening brighter than usual. “You never talk about your birth father,” she pointed out and Callum shrugged.
“I never really knew him,” he supplied. “I mean, I think I remember sometimes. But, I don’t know, mostly I think it’s just shadows of dreams of memories. Nothing real. Nothing tangible. I was too little when he died to really remember.”
“So King Harrow raised you from a baby?” Rayla asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Callum wobbled his head back and forth in thought. “I mean I guess. I wasn’t really a baby still. My birth father passed away when I was two or three and then my mother married Harrow when I was four or five? It’s all a little fuzzy. Most of the things I remember were told to me as I grew up.”
“Oh. I see,” Rayla murmured with a soft pink blush staining her cheeks. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can ask this but… would you tell me about him? King Harrow I mean. All I’ve heard of him are stories and most of those I don’t know what to believe. Seems to me that the king I heard about and the man who raised you are two very different people.”
Callum’s heart sank a little. Harrow and he had spent most of their time together holding each other at arm’s length. As much as he knew in his heart that he was every bit as much a part of Harrow’s family at Ezran was, he’d still always felt a little like an outsider. Especially after the death of their mother.
“He was the kindest man I’ve ever known,” Callum stated softly. “He loved me as if… as if I was his own son.”
Tears welled in Callum’s eyes and he was quick to scrub them away. He’d give anything to go back in time and call Harrow father, just once.
“After my mother died, it took a long time for me to realize that I wasn’t alone. I knew I had Ezran. I knew that he’d always be my family, but he was my little brother. It was my job to take care of him and I was scared that there was no one left who’d want to take care of me. I separated myself from everyone. I was the “step-prince”. I was… disposable.”
“Callum,” Rayla began to chastise, but Callum held his hand up to silence her.
“King Harrow… my father,” he corrected, “never let me feel that way. He kept his distance out of respect for the man who’d died when I was little, but he was always quick to remind me that I was loved and wanted.”
Callum drew in a deep breath through his nose and blew it out again slowly. “The summer after my mother died, my father took Ezran and I to the summer house on the lake. Mother had always loved it there. Harrow said it was so we could all feel close to her again and I hated it, at first, because she wasn’t there. But then, I think it was the third or fourth day that we were there, my father made me go fishing with him.”
Callum smiled at the memory despite the growing ache in his chest. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday.
Harrow knelt down before a pouting, sullen Callum, and held up the end of a hook in one hand and a wriggling worm in the other.
“You have to be careful when baiting the hook,” his father stated gently before carefully bringing hook and worm together. Callum arched an eyebrow at him, watching Harrow’s progress from the corner of his eyes.
“If the worm isn’t on securely enough, you’ll lose it in the water and you want to make certain that you don’t stick yourself in the process.
“Seems kind of gross,” Callum muttered and Harrow chuckled softly.
“A little,” he agreed. “But worth it if the fish are biting.”
The king set his own baited hook aside and picked up the smaller pole he’d brought for Callum. “Want to try it?”
Callum hesitated. He did, but he didn’t. He hadn’t wanted to come on this trip at all and the last thing he wanted to do was hang out here on the dock all day. The king seemed eager for him to try it though and Callum had promised he’d at least try to have fun. Though he wasn’t sure yet how standing here and waiting for the fish to bite was going to be fun.
“Sure,” he mumbled and shrugged a shoulder before reaching for the proffered hook. He looked down at the small container of packed dirt at their feet. “I just pick any worm?”
Harrow nodded. “Any worm you want,” he assured him. “The fish will like it no matter what.”
Callum actually smiled at that and crouched down to shift through the dirt. The first one he found was plump on one end and slender at the other.
“Good,” Harrow encouraged and nodded towards the hook. “Now you want to hook this end first, then wind it carefully around before hooking the other end.”
Callum nodded and did as his father instructed, the tip of his tongue caught firmly between his lips to better concentrate on his task. The wriggling worm slipped through his fingers the first go round and Callum dropped it.
“I can’t do it,” he whined, ready to toss the fishing pole aside, but Harrow placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“There’s no shame in failing, Callum. We’ve all failed at something. What matters is that you don’t give up. What matters is that you keep trying until you get it.” Harrow squeezed Callum’s shoulder again, then retrieved the worm from the ground. “Now try again. You can do it.”
Callum licked his lips, huffed out a deep sigh, then took the worm and tried again. This time he managed it, though it was messy and not nearly as good as what Harrow had done.
“Like this?” he asked, raising the hook for inspection.
Harrow grinned and nodded. “Just like that,” he beamed. The pride shining in the king’s eyes made Callum’s chest swell with joy. “Now let’s you and I try to catch some dinner,” he stated and rose to his feet.
Callum followed him to the edge of the dock and looked up at Harrow for instruction.
“Now,” the King began and moved to stand behind and just off to the side of him, “you want to grip the end of the pole firmly and always keep it in front of you. Don’t swing it about or you might hook yourself or someone else.”
Callum nodded and gripped the end of the fishing pole firmly, then lifted it up as if asking for inspection.
“Good,” Harrow stated with a smile and reached over Callum’s shoulder to help him position the pole. “First you want to make sure that there’s no one close enough to get caught up in the line when you cast. Once that’s done, you want to bring the pole back, keeping your pole and hands above your waist. Make sure your arm is loose when you cast the line. You aren’t tossing the pole into the water. Don’t tense up.”
Harrow stepped back and away, far enough that Callum couldn’t hook him and then nodded. “Now swing the pole forward and flick your wrist as you do it. Don’t stop until the rod is in front of you and pointing out over the water. Remember you’re not tossing a ball though. Keep hold of the rod, but keep your arm loose.”
Callum nodded did as he was told. He kept his grip firm but tried hard not to lock his arm up or let the pole go once it was pointed out away from him. The line flew forward, zipped a few feet away from him, and then plunked down into the water. He immediately pulled it back, grinning that he’d managed to get the hook in the water and Harrow laughed.
“Not so fast, Cal,” the king chuckled. “You want to give the fish time to bite. If you pull the line back to you to fast, they won’t have a chance to catch it.”
“Oh,” Callum replied, blinking owlishly up at the king and then he looked back to the line. “Right. I just… let it sit there?”
Harrow shook his head. “You want to draw the line back to you slowly,” he instructed. Let it sit in this place or that for a bit, then give it another slow tug.”
The king moved up to stand next to Callum, but far enough away that they could both cast their lines. “Like this,” he told him and cast his own out across the water.
Callum watched as Harrow’s line glided through the air and then, just as his had down, plunked down into the water. The king gave the line a small tug, then settle for a moment and watched the water intently.
“You want to pay attention to how the pole feels in your hand,” Harrow instructed. “You’ll feel it when the fish bite. It’ll tug gently. Unless it’s a bigger fish and then the tug will be stronger. If you don’t feel anything after a few minutes, tug the line in a little closer and let it settle again. Do it slowly though. You don’t want to spook them.”
Callum simply nodded and watched at first. Harrow tugged his line every few minutes, waiting for long stretches in between, and when the line grew too close, he cast it out again. Callum followed suit and recast his own.
A comfortable silence settled between them and first Harrow, then Callum dropped down to sit on the edge of the dock with their feet hanging over.
“You know, my father taught me to fish when I was about your age,” Harrow said once they’d settled into a slow rhythm. “Right in this very spot.”
“I’ll bet you were a natural,” Callum replied softly with a small grin.
King Harrow seemed like a natural at most things to Callum. He always knew the right thing to do and the right way to do it.
“If I’m going to be honest, I got pretty bored pretty quickly,” Harrow admitted with a light snort. “I didn’t learn to appreciate slowing things down until I got older.”
He looked over to Callum, eyes warm with affection, and reached out to squeeze Callum’s shoulder gently. “I learned to appreciate just spending time with those who cared about me. Because that’s the best time.” He squeezed again. “And I realized that there was nowhere else I’d rather be. Even if it meant sitting all day, right here at the end of this dock.”
Tears swelled in Callum’s eyes and he leaned into the touch. “I think I’d like that,” Callum stated softly and gave a small, happy sigh as he looked back out across the lake.
Harrow’s hand fell away, but the warmth of the touch didn’t fade immediately and Callum felt comforted by it.
“I…” the king began and Callum waited. “I hope you know that, even with your mother gone, this family doesn’t change. You are still a part of us and we love you very much. We are your home and you are ours.”
Callum nodded, despite the feeling of displacement and uncertainty that he’d felt since his mother had died. Harrow’s words made it somehow easier to breathe.
“I know,” he mumbled.
“And you know you can talk to me if… if you’re feeling sad or… or you’re missing your mother,” Harrow assured.
Callum nodded again. “I know.”
Harrow cleared his throat softly. “Good. Because I miss her too. Every day. But I know that she will never really be gone. Not when we hold her in our hearts.”
Callum looked to Harrow again, a tear escaping one eye. “You really think that?” he asked. “That she’s not really gone?”
Harrow tugged his line in and set his pole aside, then turned to face him. “When we love someone, they never really leave us. Even when we cannot see them or hear them or feel them, they stay with us. In here,” the king said and pressed his hand to his heart. “And in here,” he stated and pressed a single finger to his temple. “We keep a part of them in our hearts and our memories so that they will always be with us.”
The king motioned out to the world around them. “The world is full of things to remind us of those we’ve loved and lost. Happy things, sad things, even bad things. And it’s okay to feel sad or mad or happy. It’s okay to talk about those feelings if you need to. Sharing those feelings, those memories, is just another way of remembering. We can remember together. We can share our happiness or sadness or anger together so that neither of us feel so alone.”
Callum didn’t speak at first. He wasn’t sure what to say. He was definitely sad that his mother was gone. He missed her every second of every day. But he was also angry. He’d been angry since Harrow had told him that she’d died. And because he felt angry, Callum felt guilty.
“Are you…” Callum started and had to take a deep breath before he could continue. “Are you mad at mom for leaving?”
Harrow sat silent for a long while and then with a small frown, nodded. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Your mother was a very brave woman. She cared for all of our people and she promised to always protect them and provide for them. And while yes, I am a little angry that she didn’t put her own safety before anyone else’s, I also know that she gave her life to protect someone that needed her protection. She did it for him and for us. It was a choice that she made selflessly and though it may cause us sadness, I know in my heart that it was the right choice. And because I know that, I can forgive her for leaving us. Does that make sense?”
Callum nodded. “I just… I just miss her. And I get angry sometimes because she’s not here. She promised that she would always be here and she’s not.”
The tears came freely then and Harrow slid closer so he could wrap Callum up in his arms. “I know, son. I know. As parents we promise our children that we will always be there, even when we know that there is a possibility that we may not be able to keep that promise.”
Harrow hugged Callum tightly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “And it’s okay to be angry, Cal. As long as you remember that your mother loved you very much and I know that she would have done everything in her power to get back to you. To us. She never meant to or wanted to break that promise.”
Callum sniffled and nodded his head against Harrow’s chest. “I know,” he mumbled again, his voice thick and wet with tears. Harrow rocked him gently, never once loosening his hold until Callum was ready.
When they parted a short while later, Callum sniffed and scrubbed at his face, then looked up at the king. “Will you promise that you won’t leave too?”
Harrow smiled down at him, his hand coming up to cup Callum’s cheek. “I give you my word that I will always do everything in my power to protect you and take care of you. No matter what, Cal, I will do whatever it takes to stand at your side and to always be there for you. Just… just remember that if the time ever comes that I have to break that promise, I will never really be gone. I’ll be here,” Harrow stated and pressed his hand to Callum’s heart. “And here,” he told him and pressed a finger to Callum’s temple. “And I will always, whether I am here or not, be watching over you and protecting you.”
Callum nodded, heart full of reassurance and love. “I know,” he replied and smiled up at him with a wobbly, watery smile.
“Good,” the king murmured and patted Callum gently before sliding back over and picking up his fishing pole.
“I think we might be going hungry tonight,” Harrow teased as he cast his line again.
Callum sniffle-snickered and picked his own fishing pole back up from where he’d set it. “I don’t think Ezran would like that too much. He gets cranky when there’s no food.”
Harrow snorted and nodded. “Just like his mother. Always hungry.”
Callum snickered. “I’m pretty sure he never stops eating.”
“We may be in trouble,” the king stated with mock seriousness. “Best stay out here until we have something to take back with us.”
Something had lifted off of Callum’s shoulders during his time out on the dock with the king and he nodded, not one bit opposed to spending the rest of the day right there.
“Do you think we can take the boat out tomorrow?” Callum asked as he cast his own line again.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Harrow agreed. There’s a few spots on this lake where the fish really love to bite. We might even be able to convince Ezran to come.”
Callum grinned at that. “As long as there’s snacks,” he joked and Harrow chuckled.
“As long as there’s snacks,” he agreed.
They fished for a while again in silence, just enjoying that day, and then Callum asked another question that had been weighing heavily on him.
“What happens when we die?
Harrow didn’t answer right away. He drew his line in slowly as he appeared to think over his response. “I don’t know, Cal,” was his eventual response. “There are many different beliefs. Some believe that we are reborn in a never ending cycle of death and rebirth. Some believe that we are given back to the earth; our human bodies left behind to become part of the world around us in the form of fauna or flora. Others believe that there is a life, a world beyond this one.” The king shrugged. “Some believe belief in nothing at all. That there is nothing beyond death.”
Callum shifted uncomfortably at that thought. He didn’t like the idea of there being nothing. Of his mother and eventually everyone else just being gone.
“What do you believe?” he inquired quietly.
Harrow thought on it for a moment before answering, “I believe that we are rewarded after death with what we put into this life. If you are a good person, do good deeds, live a good, full life, you will be rewarded for that life in the next.”
“And if you’re bad?” Callum asked.
Harrow shrugged again, “Then the next life isn’t quite so favorable,” he replied with a small, casual smile. “Death is like life. You get out of it what you put into it no matter what kind of afterlife you believe in.”
Callum gave a small nod, drew his line back in, and cast again. “Do you think mom is somewhere good?”
Harrow sighed and gave a nod of his head. “Sarai put nothing but beauty into this life,” the king replied. “She was good and she was kind. I know that wherever she is, she is somewhere beautiful and she is looking down on us, guiding and protecting us.”
Callum looked up at that, the thought warming him a little. “I think of her as a star sometimes,” he admitted. “There every night to watch over me as I sleep.” He shrugged and looked back out over the lake. “It keeps the bad dreams away.”
“I think that your mother would like that very much,” Harrow agreed. “She always loved the night sky. To be apart of it and be able to watch over us every night, that would be a truly wondrous thing.”
The smile that curled Callum’s lips was a happy one. “Then I think that’s what I believe,” he told Harrow. “When you die, you become a star so that you can shine down everyone and watch over them while they dream.”
A gentle tug at the end of his line made Callum’s eyes go saucer-wide. “I… I felt something!” he blurted loudly.
“Your first bite!” Harrow cheered and pointed towards the fishing pole. “Give it a quick tug. Not enough to pull the line from the water, but hard enough to hook the fish.”
Callum nodded eagerly and gave the pole a quick, sharp tug. The resistance was instant and Callum all but scrambled up from his sitting position.
“It’s pulling!” he squealed.
“That’s good!” Harrow encouraged and stood as well. “Now pull the line towards you. Draw it in, but don’t yank too hard or the fish might break free.”
Callum did as instructed, his heart pounding hard in his chest, his cheeks heating with a flush of excitement. “It’s pulling!” he yelled as he tried to tug the line and fish in. “It’s pulling! It’s pulling!”
He wanted to jump up and down but didn’t for fear of losing hold of the fishing pole. Harrow set his own pole aside and stepped in behind Callum to lend a hand. He didn’t take over, merely braced the pole with his own hand and helped to tug the line in.
The battle was epic, at least in Callum’s mind it was, and when he finally pulled the dangling fish up out of the water he crowed with delight.
“I did it! I did it!” he yelled, bouncing up and down where he stood, fish raised up for Harrow to see. “I caught one!”
“I see!” the king chuckled. “And it’s a good one too!”
Harrow moved over to the large basket he’d brought with them and motioned Callum to follow.
“Now we have to gently remove the hook from the fishes’ mouth and place it in the basket,” he instructed.
Callum looked dubiously from the king to the fish and then back again. “How do I do that?”
Harrow grinned and reached for the fish. He wrapped one hand around it, just below the neck and gills. “It’s a little slippery, but you have to try and get as firm a grip as possible on it. Gripping it here will give you more control. Then you gently guide the hook out. Don’t just pull it. That’ll just do damage and it’s cruel.”
“Aren’t we just going to kill it and eat it anyway?” Callum asked
Harrow nodded. “We are, but even at the end, you should always, always, be kind. You never hunt or fish for sport or pleasure. We take only what we need from the earth and then give back what we can. These are living creatures and should be treated as such. Understand?”
Callum nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Harrow smiled and placed the fish into the lined basket that contained enough water to keep the fish alive for now. If they didn’t catch anything else today, the one fish wouldn’t be worth taking back for all of them and he’d toss it back.
“Ready to try again?” the king asked and Callum beamed up at him.
“Yes!” he replied, grinning from ear to ear and all but raced back to the small container of dirt and worms.
Callum swiped another escaping tear from his cheek and gave a wet chuckle. “He helped me forget for a while that she was gone,” he stated wistfully. “It was the first time since her death that I felt like everything was really going to be okay.”
“It’s a beautiful memory, Callum,” Rayla murmured softly. “He sounds like a good man.”
Callum nodded. “He is… was.”
He blew out a deep breath and shook his head. “He was a good father. Did all the right things. I just wish I’d told him more, how much he meant to me.”
Rayla reached out to take Callum’s hand in her own. “I’m sure he knew,” she told him. “You wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s hard not to know exactly what you’re thinking at all times.”
Callum snorted at that, his sadness giving way to surprised amusement.
“Am I that transparent?” he asked and Rayla all but rolled her eyes.
“Oh yes,” she assured him. “I’m afraid you’re a bit of an open book.”
“I hope you’re right,” he replied and squeezed her hand. “I hope he knew how I felt.”
Rayla shifted closer to him, his hand still in hers.
“He knew, Callum. I have no doubt about that,” she assured him.
Callum nodded. “You know, besides drawing, fishing was the only thing that I ever felt like I was good at. We’d go every spring and summer. There were times when we’d spends hours out on that dock.”
His throat closed up a little and Callum dropped his gaze to the sketchbook in his lap. “Some days I try to convince myself that he’s not really gone. I like to believe that he’s there, sitting on that dock, just waiting for us to find him.”
“I wish I could make that come true for you,” Rayla murmured. “I wish I could go back and make Runaan see that war, that killing wasn’t the answer. I’m so sorry, Callum.”
Callum tried to offer Rayla a small smile when he looked up at her. “You did your best, Rayla. I know you would have stopped it if you could have. And Harrow was right,” he told her as he pressed his hand to his heart. “The people we love are never really gone as long as we remember them.”
Rayla smiled in returned and pressed her hand to her heart. “I think I like that idea,” she said in return and Callum could see that she was holding on to her own ghosts. Memories of lost loved ones that still caused an ache in her heart when she thought of them.
He wondered, only for a moment, if after this was all over and they delivered Zym to his mother, if they’d be ghosts to each other. One more person to miss. To love and remember fondly, sadly, in their absence.