"Why are you giving me this?" Erwen asked, staring at the lychee leaves.
"Do I need a reason to help someone?" I replied.
The words felt like a splinter in my throat—I didn't actually believe them—but I knew this kind of "noble barbarian" act worked on someone like her. Between her injuries, her lack of sleep, and her looks, her situation was ten times more precarious than mine. She was desperate.
"Treat your wound," I said, turning away with a grunt. "I'm standing guard."
I heard the soft sounds of her chewing the leaves and applying the poultice. When I turned back, she had Neatly wrapped a bandage over her stomach. The hostility in her amber eyes had softened into a wary confusion.
"I'm Bjorn, son of Yandel," I said.
"...Erwen," she whispered.
"I don't know what you were thinking earlier," I said, keeping my voice level. "But nothing you feared is going to happen."
"Oh. Okay..." She tried to hide it, but the tremors in her hands remained.
"Why are you so afraid of me?" I asked point-blank.
"Barbarians and fairies are enemies, right?"
"Enemies?" I blinked. In the game, they were usually neutral or allied.
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean... I don't want to fight you!" she squeaked, falling back into her submissive posture.
"The war ended ten years ago," she added quickly when I didn't respond. "I don't hold a grudge. Really."
Ten years ago? It seemed the history of this world was more complex than the game's lore suggested. She'd likely grown up on horror stories of barbarian raids.
"I don't have a grudge either," I said. "Erwen, let's be night partners. We're both exhausted. Let's work together."
Her eyes lit up, then narrowed. She looked at my massive frame, then at my hammer. "I've heard barbarians value honor above all. Will you swear it? Swear on your warrior's honor that you won't harm me first?"
"I swear it. On behalf of my clan," I said.
In her culture, that was the ultimate contract. I discovered her full name was Erwen Fornacci di Tersia. She was twenty—the same age as Bjorn.
Synergy and Nightmares
The contract was set.
"I'll sleep first," I said. "It'll make you feel safer if I'm the vulnerable one."
"I... I suppose so," she admitted, looking relieved.
I handed her my watch. "It's expensive. Don't break it."
She cradled the watch like a newborn bird. "I'll be careful. Good night, Bjorn."
I used my backpack as a pillow and pulled the blanket over me. Synergy, I thought. The combination of a real pillow and a blanket was a miracle. I didn't even have to fake my snoring. I was out in seconds.
"Bjorn! Wake up! It's time!"
I forced my eyes open. I felt like I'd been asleep for five minutes, but the watch confirmed it had been two hours. I'd slept so deeply I wouldn't have noticed if a goblin had started dancing on my chest.
"Your turn," I said, handing her the blanket. "Use the pillow too."
"Are you sure?" She looked like she wanted to cry with joy. She curled up like a cat and was asleep before I could even sit back against the wall.
Only one hour left of the second day. My mind wandered back to the real world. Was I a missing person? Did anyone care? I pushed the thoughts away. Sentimentality was a luxury for people who weren't in a monster-infested cave.
"Erwen, get up."
"Five more minutes..." she mumbled.
"No. Get up." I shook her shoulder with my massive hand.
She stood up, rubbing her eyes. She looked less like a mystical forest spirit and more like a college student late for a midterm. I lay down for my second shift. This time, I tried to stay semi-conscious, but the lingering warmth of the blanket was too much.
GRAB.
I sat up, my hand lunging out and catching a small, white wrist in a vice grip.
"Ahh!" Erwen cried out.
"What are you doing?" I growled, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"You... you were having a nightmare," she gasped, her face pale. "You were sweating so much. I was just trying to wipe your forehead."
She held up a damp handkerchief. I looked at her wrist—my grip had already left red marks. I let go but didn't apologize. In the Labyrinth, an apology for being alert was a sign of weakness.
"Ten minutes left," she whispered, stroking her arm.
"I'm done sleeping. If I go back under now, I'll be a zombie."
Erwen lay back down, looking at me with a mix of fear and curiosity. "Bjorn? Who is 'sir'?"
"What?"
"In your sleep... you kept asking someone for forgiveness. You kept calling them 'sir'."
I stared at her. Hans? The man from the ceremony? I didn't know. "It was just a dream," I said. "Sleep."
She pulled the blanket over her head.
The Chubby and the Boney
The third day began. I watched Erwen sleep, debating whether to keep her as a permanent comrade. Groups of three or four goblins would start appearing today. I could handle them alone, but it would be a slog. Keeping her meant sharing loot, but it also meant not dying of sleep deprivation.
Tap—tap—
Footsteps echoed from the left passage. I didn't move, keeping my hand on my hammer.
Two men appeared. One was short and stout, the other tall and gaunt. Chubby and Boney. They stopped and stared at us.
"Is that the fairy?" Chubby whispered.
"Matches the description," Boney replied with a sneer.
They whispered for a moment before Chubby stepped forward. "Barbarian. What's your business with that fairy?"
"Night partners," I said shortly.
"A barbarian and a fairy? Strange pair," Chubby said, his eyes scanning Erwen's sleeping form. "How much time do you have left?"
"None of your business."
Chubby smiled—a greasy, unpleasant expression. "I see. Let's go, then."
They turned and disappeared into the gloom. But I didn't relax. That look... that was the look of men who had just found a winning lottery ticket.
I leaned over and shook Erwen's shoulder.
"Ugh... five minutes..."
"Wake up, Erwen," I hissed. "I think we're screwed."