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Homecoming
At the time, when Eric had heard, he’d had to make an instant decision. Time ran differently in the two worlds, and he was only going to get this one chance to say goodbye, if he wanted to.
In spite of the necessary time limit, he found himself lingering outside the cemetery, his mind filled with questions: Would anyone recognise him? What was he going to say if they did? How was he going to explain his absence, and his age?
The clock of the nearby church struck eleven. Reminded of the preciousness of time, Eric moved forward, down the path flanked by silent stones to the surprisingly large group of black-clad mourners. Fortunately, Presto had been able to provide him with the appropriate clothes (not as stylish as he’d wanted, but the Magician couldn’t do everything!) so he didn’t appear too out of place.
He slipped in at the back, his head bowed in quiet contemplation and respect, and let the long forgotten, but familiar words of the Christian minister wash over him.
'Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.'
When the man had finished the prayer, Eric looked up.
It was a large group, perhaps fifty people, all dressed in black and looking suitably sombre. He was sure he saw Bobby just behind his sister, with Terri just beside him, dabbing her eyes. Next to them was Diana, her head held high, but tears on her face. But the one person that attracted his full attention was the woman at the centre, flanked by her friends: Sheila.
She had hardly changed, except her figure more rounded. Her head was slightly bowed, and her eyes were closed as she stood there, but even from a distance she looked just the same, as youthful and as beautiful as he remembered.
Beside Sheila was a young boy, barely ten years old. He had the Ranger’s blue eyes and blonde hair, and even though he was young Eric could see the strong family resemblance in the boy’s face. More so than his features, his expression reminded Eric of Hank; it was exactly the way he remembered, before they’d parted.
Small tears started in the ex-Cavalier’s eyes. For him it had been decades since he’d seen the other members of the Heroic Six (as they were now called back in the Realm). Seeing them all, and so young, was more painful than he’d thought it would be. Presto had warned him of course, that slipping between worlds would be hard, but he hadn’t really understood until now. He looked at his old friends, feeling a great loss of opportunity. Had things been otherwise, he would have been there, standing with Sheila and the others, still part of their group and not the stranger in a strange land.
The other mourners moved away, but Sheila and her son stayed, and so did Eric, tucked away almost out of sight. He watched as Bobby kissed his sister lightly on the cheek and shook the young boy’s hand; and Diana kissed and hugged both of them, giving the boy and especially big hug and smile that managed to get a small smile back. Neither of his one-time friends gave him a second glance.
He hadn’t meant to stay longer than the end of the prayer. He was running out of time, but seeing her again increased his need to say something, anything, to her again even though this hardly seemed like the place or the time.
She must have seen him as he approached, and he wondered if she recognised her old friend after all these years. But her son didn’t appreciate the interruption.
His head lifted suddenly, and he glared at Eric, his blue eyes held a challenge to approach, and the young boy took his mother’s hand. Protective, just like Hank, thought Eric.
‘I wanted to extend my condolences personally, Mrs Grayson,’ he said.
Sheila looked up in surprise, her face clouded in confusion. It only took and instant before she recognised him. He was surprised, he thought he would have been asked to explain.
‘Eric…?’ she whispered.
‘Who is it, Mom?’ asked the boy, still staring at Eric. ‘What…?’
The young boy stopped as his mother smiled, the smile that had broken Eric’s heart over half a century ago.
‘Eric! You’ve… you’ve…’ She was obviously struggling for words, and he didn’t want to make this any more difficult for her than it already was.
‘I had to come, Sheila,’ he said sadly. ‘I had to be here, too. To say goodbye. It was the right thing to do.’
She stared at him, an expression of shocked curiosity on her face. He was so much older than her now, he’d lived a hard life in the Realm and he’d changed. Not just the long scar that snaked across his forehead and right eye, but his body was old and his mind was full of pain and war and lost opportunities.
‘What happened to you?’
A slight smile touched his lips. So much to tell, so much to catch up on. But there just wasn’t time. And neither there should be; Diana and Hank, Sheila and Bobby had chosen home, he and Presto had chosen to stay. They were apart, forever, now. Except for just this once.
‘I am a Paladin,’ he said. ‘Presto’s still a Wizard. We did what Dungeonmaster asked of us. We won.’
He didn’t tell her of the terrible cost, both to himself and to Presto. There was no need.
Her smiled lit up as he spoke.
‘Can you stay, the others will want to…’
‘No. I had to come and say goodbye. In spite of our differences, he was still a good friend. I had to come.’
Again she stared, this time with a frown on her face, as if curious as to what he’d sacrificed to be here. She knew as well as he the troubles caused in travelling beteen worlds.
‘How long will you be away?’ she asked in a hushed tone. ‘How much time has this cost you, Eric?’
‘Two years, or near enough.’
‘Two years? Just to say goodbye? Even after what happened?’
She was shocked, but not as shocked as the young boy who stood beside her.
‘Mom, are you alright? Who is this?’
Eric looked her son in the eye.
‘My name is Eric. Who are you?’
‘Ray,’ was the reply.
Eric smiled.
‘That’s short for…?’
‘Rhamoud,’ said the boy proudly. Eric smiled more widely. So they’d actually done it, called their first-born after the old King, just as they said they would.
It’s time, Eric, you have to go…whispered a voice in his mind. We need you back home…
Eric held out his hand to Ray, who shook it warily. Then Eric leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on Sheila’s damp cheek. Every second here was precious, and who knows what the cost would be when he returned to the Realm.
Eric, it's getting worse. Come home.
He took a step away, turning as he did so. He had work to do in the Realm. He’d lingered in his potential past for long enough. But he was glad not to have stretched their meeting out. Sheila knew, and that was enough.
Eric glanced to the grave, looking down at the brown box that held the body of their leader, a man he owed his life too. He had to come, he had to show his respects for Hank. It was the honourable thing to do.
Take me home.
The thought was enough to break the spell, and the magic that had sent him to Earth flared into life, pulling him back to the Realm and leaving confusion and question behind him on Earth.
But as the cemetery faded, he had enough time for one word: ‘Goodbye’.