Read The Record of the Saints Caliber Online
Authors: M. David White
Tags: #Fantasy, #Dark Fantasy, #Fiction
The Record of the Saints Caliber (97 page)
Rook looked up at the giant, bearded man. Callad smiled down at him. “Easy, son.”
Rook used his free hand and wiped at his brow, smearing black coal dust and grease across his already grubby features. “But I need to get strong.”
Callad set the hammer down and took the tongs and glowing steel from Rook and set them aside. He knelt down and put his hands on Rook’s shoulders. “I know you want to find your sister, Rook. Strength will only get you so far in this world. Even skill can only take a man so far. The success of a journey depends on what you take with you.” Callad’s warm, brown eyes gazed into Rook’s. He tapped Rook on the chest with a meaty finger. “What’s in there is taken everywhere you go. Be mindful of what you pack.”
“But I hate them.” said Rook. “I hate them all.”
Callad nodded softly. “I know, son. I know. And that is why you’re not ready.”
Rook frowned. “I’ll never forgive them. I’ll never forgive any of the Saints.”
“You don’t need to forgive them, son.” said Callad. “They’ve done bad things. Nobody is entitled to forgiveness. But you can’t let it consume you, either. If you do, then you become the very thing you are fighting against.”
Rook frowned.
Callad placed his hands on Rook’s arms and squeezed softly. “You’re already stronger than you were a month ago when we took you home. You’ll be stronger still in another month. When you’re grown, you’ll be as strapping as me.” Callad smiled and pounded his chest.
That got a tiny smile and laugh out of Rook.
Callad stood up and grabbed the tongs that held the quickly cooling steel. He set it on the anvil for Rook. “You have a gift with the fire and steel.” he said, handing Rook back the hammer. “I’ve no doubt you’ll make a name for yourself. But mom’s got a gift with the fire and beef, and if we’re not at the dinner table ready to compliment her cooking, we’ll both have an earful to deal with.” Callad took off his leather apron and tossed it over a nearby bench.
Rook looked up at Callad. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Callad looked at him and nodded. “Me and Sierla, we love you, Rook. We might not be your parents by birthright, but we’re your parents here.” He tapped his barrel-chest.
“And you’re mine here too.” said Rook, patting his chest. “And that’s what we take with us on all our journeys.”
Callad smiled. “I’ll see you at the table.” He rubbed Rook’s shoulder and then walked across the workshop and disappeared out the door.
Rook grabbed the tongs and thrust the steel into the furnace. He pumped the bellows and stared into the roaring flames, watching as the coals became angry with heat. They throbbed bright yellows and intense white. He felt the Golothic in his pocket burning with the same fire, and a terrible rage, more red than the steel he held, began to well up within him. He turned and placed the glowing steel on the anvil, and with all his might brought the hammer down, over and over again. “I
hate
them.” he growled.
“I hate them all.”
Clink…clink…clink…clink…clink…clink…clink…
M. David White
lives just outside of Chicago. He has been writing stories ever since he was a little boy when his mom would help him write the words down. He is an avid writer of fantasy and fiction and has published a number of projects over the years. He lives with his wonderful wife, three kids, and an indoor zoo which consists of four cats, a dog, a rabbit and a fox. When he’s not writing, he’s thinking about writing. When he’s not thinking about writing, he’s wondering which one of the animals is plotting against him. He also fancies himself an outdoor chef and enjoys grilling and BBQ, even if it’s raining. He fears the eventual rise of robot overlords and has a stash of tinfoil hats...just in case.
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