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Rest
It was a mistake: A moment of weakness. That was all.
Eric was comfortable. That warm, grey and quiet place between wakefulness and sleep, was where he could dream in peace and where he could be alone, for once, with his thoughts. He could be alone, properly alone in a way that he never could when he was wake.
He liked it there. He lingered there tonight.
Someone was... It could...
No, it was just a dream.
There was nothing outside worth waking up for. Not tonight, anyway.
The past week had been hard on them all. It was a week of close shaves and lucky escapes. There had barely been the chance to stop: until now.
Under the relentless pressure, he had become more unsociable and contrary than usual. They had all had times when it became too much to handle, or too much to take in at once. This was a new land, a whole new Realm, and though he had grown used to expecting the unexpected, he still wasn’t very good at it.
So, maybe this time Eric just had more to handle. So maybe this time he wasn’t as strong as everyone else.
Maybe this time, he just needed a good nights sleep.
Someone was calling…It could have been screaming…
It didn’t matter at the moment.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t wake, but he just didn’t want to. He knew he wasn’t on watch that night, and since they only got one full night each week, he was going to make the absolute most of it. He didn’t want to wake up, and he didn’t want to move either. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this comfortable.
Perhaps it had been the single night they’d stayed with Rhamoud’s Caravan in the desert, after they had defeated the Nightwalker. He’d never have thought the simple sheets and blankets could have been so
comfortable, but that was one of the best nights sleep he’d ever had. Maybe it had more to do with the fact no one was on watch, and they were safe. That night, there had been no need to worry. Evil was defeated and they were safe.
It would be nice to be safe again.
Someone was calling his name…It could have been screaming his name…
His eyes remained tightly closed, and he could feel himself sinking deeper into warm sleep. Images of the past few days blinked in and out of his consciousness.
For a while, they had seen nothing but Orcs. It was almost as if it had been a trap, except the Orcs had seemed as surprised as the kids.
Then they had run every day and most nights, but they had finally lost the Orcs in the Forest of Seven Tears early this morning. He wasn’t sure why they were so difficult to get rid of this time. Perhaps it was because they had tasted blood, and wanted more. The Orcs had never drawn blood before (they had never had the chance before, Hank had made sure of that), and the sight of it, so deep and red and warm as if flowed across Diana’s arms and hands and down their cold steel swords, had seemed to send a thrill of urgent desire through them.
In the grey land of dreaming sleep, Eric shivered.
Someone was calling his name. It could have been screaming his name. “For God’s sake Eric…”
Who cares!
They were always making such a drama out of things, and acting like the sky was falling. They were always telling him what to do!
He didn’t need to be told anymore. He knew what he had to do. It wasn’t like he didn’t pull his weight. So maybe there had been occasions when he hadn’t, but he’d saved the group from certain death a depressingly huge number of times over the years. He was entitled to a little rest, for God’s sake!
Someone was calling his name. It could have been screaming his name. “For God’s sake Eric, you have to help her…”
He wasn’t good at that.
He tried his best, but he didn’t find it easy being with the others as part of the group, and being there in case he was needed. He didn’t find it easy relying on others, or being relied on. Though he might brag about saving the day, that sort of responsibility terrified him.
He didn’t want to be the one who always had to run out, Shield held high against arrows and rock-falls and spears and swords and certain death. He didn’t want to have to help.
Someone was calling his name. It could have been screaming his name. For God’s sake Eric, you have to help her, you have to help yourself…
He was good at looking out for himself.
He’d had plenty of practice in the past. And that was the problem, though, wasn’t it? His finely honed sense of self-preservation tended to get in the way.
They all still thought it, even though none of them had ever said it: That he was a coward. It was in looks from Diana and Hank; it was in Bobby’s tone and Presto’s resigned sighs. Even Sheila occasionally looked at him, obviously thinking what a disappointment he was.
Someone was calling his name. It could have been screaming his name. For God’s sake Eric, you have to help her, you have to help yourself! Before it’s too late…
It was never too late.
Somehow they always seemed to muddle through in the end; and Dungeonmaster was always there to help them out of any serious jam they might get themselves into to. He always had help of some sort. He was never alone.
‘For God’s sake Eric, you have to help her, you have to help yourself! Before it’s too late!’
Suddenly there was a cold pressure on his neck and his eyes flicked open as the far-away words that he’d pretended not to hear roared though his head.
‘For God’s sake Eric, you have to help her, you have to help yourself! Before it’s too la…’
It was a mistake.
But it was his last.