Soren watched impassively as Ike put the last of his belongings into a bag and swung it over his shoulder. "Are you finally ready to leave?" asked the arch sage using his mend staff to lever himself to his feet. Ike turned towards him with an expression of mild surprise on his craggy features.
"I'm sorry, Soren. I was…thinking" Soren's vermillion eyes roved over his friend's body trying to read his mood.
"You are having second thoughts about allowing me to accompany you." stated Soren. Ike sighed but nodded. Soren turned to study the old fort that had served as home to the branded mage for as long as he could remember. No, not quite that long. Home was that tiny cottage in Gallia that Griel had built with his own hands. That is, until Griel murdered his lovely wife Elena and fled the country. "Ike, I've followed you since I was a starving waif. What makes you think that that would change now?"
"I've gotten you into trouble lots of times, Soren" replied Ike. "When I think of the number of times you've nearly been killed because of me I feel…guilty. You should be studying magic in peace not getting involved in two wars, one of which ended up with us combating a goddess of all things." Soren's eyes swivelled to glare in Ike's direction.
"Studying? In a library?" Soren's expression was dark with fury. "Do you think me a fragile doll? Not capable of surviving the rigors of war? May I remind you, Ike, that oft times in battle it was you and not me who was bloody and torn? That it was me you came to for healing? Don't say that I should be locked away safe in a derelict library." Ike stepped back from his friend and ran his tongue over his dry lips.
"I never said that, Soren. I just don't want you hurt because of me." Soren's expression softened a little.
"You needn't worry about that. I can assure you that if I do get hurt it will purely be from my own stubbornness." Ike smiled a little.
"At least you have the stubbornness part right." Soren allowed a small smirk to turn the corners of his mouth up but then glanced over his shoulder.
"We should be leaving if you don't want to explain your departure to the others." Ike nodded and started out of the door. Soren glanced back at the dusty old fort and tried to commit every detail to memory. He knew he would never return.
Soren sighed and hitched up his hood. The desert sun was miserably bright at noon but still the archsage and mercenary trudged onwards. They had to. They were low on supplies and nearly out of water. "This," puffed Ike, wiping the sweat from his face with the end of his head band. "is not what I imagined when I fantasized about leaving Tellius and all its worries behind." Soren smiled lightly and paused to wait for Ike.
"Odd. This is exactly what I imagined when you said we were walking across the desert." Ike grumbled unhappily under his breath. "What was that? I didn't hear you, Ike."
"I said that you don't have to gloat." Soren glanced upward at the blisteringly hot sun then back towards Ike as he slogged through the shifting sands.
"Walk as close behind me as you can, Ike. I'll manipulate the spirits into clearing a path for you too." Ike frowned a little.
"Can you do that?" asked the man pushing his wet hair from his eyes. Soren's mouth pulled down into a tight frown.
"They won't like it but yes I can do that." Soren closed his eyes and concentrated for a long moment. Slowly his mouth began to form words though Ike couldn't hear them. Then Soren's expression grew fierce, and almost pained. Ike had just started toward his friend when a turbulent wind stirred up around them both almost like a dust devil. Ike winced when he felt the magical aura that always surrounded Soren spike and grow. The wind died in a matter of seconds. Soren opened his eyes and smiled tiredly. "You won't have anymore trouble from the sand, Ike." The mercenary nodded, knowing better than to ask what had happened. He'd never understand the explanation and his friend looked too weary to talk.
They trudged on for hours more before finally deciding to make camp. Ike set up the tent while Soren gathered what scrub he could find so that they could have a fire. When he had finally gathered all the wood there was to gather Soren set it aflame with a snap of his fingers.
"I'm heading on to bed," announced the archsage as soon as Ike had finished with the tent.
"What about supper?" asked Ike, glancing at his friend worriedly. Soren shook his head.
"Perhaps later but right now I must rest. The desert sun is not kind to one wearing heavy black robes." Ike nodded but suspected Soren's sudden exhaustion had more to do with the spirits than with the sun. He let it pass though because the mage would never admit it and had recently become very touchy if he thought someone was belittling his abilities.
After five and a half days of traipsing through the desert Soren had had all he could take of sand. He swore softly to himself that if he had any say in the matter they would never travel within ten miles of the desert again. Ever. Soren glanced over his shoulder and bit his lip when he noticed that Ike's limp had gotten more pronounced. The archsage stopped and was unsurprised when the swordsman nearly walked into him. Ike hadn't spoken nor looked up from the ground in hours.
"We stop here," said Soren when his friend looked up at him to see why they had stopped. Ike glanced at the sun.
"We still have hours of daylight left." Soren nodded but didn't move to continue on.
"I'm not taking another step until you tell me what is wrong with you." Ike went to shoulder past him but Soren stood firm. "Now, Ike. I want to know." Ike scowled but shrugged and gestured to his foot.
"My boot is worn through. The sand is burning my foot." Soren raised his eyebrows but pulled the mend staff from his back. Ike sighed. "There's no point, Soren. It will only burn again when we continue on."
"Take off your boot and sock." Ike rolled his eyes but complied. Soren winced when he saw the bloody and raw sole of his friend's foot. It took a great deal of endurance to walk on that. Ike breathed a sigh of relief when Soren healed the blistered mass.
"It may be temporary but damn it feels good while it lasts." Soren smirked a little but didn't comment.
"See if you can hop along and set up the tent. Then get some rest. I can't have you falling over on me. You're too fat for me to carry." Ike snorted at the idea of being fat. His bulk was pure muscle, honed to perfect fighting form.
While Ike worked Soren studied the ruined boot. The sole of it was worn into a hole as big as a gold coin. He tried tying a bit of cloth around the hole but it slipped off far too easily and wouldn't provide much protection from the scorching sand. Eventually when Ike's snores broke the stillness of the desert Soren pulled forth his last remaining tome. He silently measured the hole with his eyes then retrieved Ike's dagger and cut out a chunk of the tome's hard cover. He put that over the hole and grunted in satisfaction until he considered how he was going to affix the patch to the boot. He considered breaking the dagger and using the shards as nails but disregarded the idea when he remembered that Ike had to be able to wear the boot. Soren's eyes fell on his tome. It was still usable but wouldn't remain so for long.
When Ike woke he found Soren pouring over the tome as he hadn't since before the Goddess' War. Soren glanced up at him. "Go back to sleep. I'm not finished yet." Ike opened his mouth to protest but stopped when he noticed the deadly look in his friend's eyes. In that moment Ike was struck by the fact that Soren's eyes were redder than blood. Ike went back to sleep.
When Soren had committed every incantation to memory he snapped the tome shut and reached for Ike's dagger. It was tedious work pulling off the books binding without ruining the glue but the archsage was used to such work. Soren carefully placed a chunk of glue over the hole and melted it with a small blue flame that danced on the tip of his finger. Then before the glue could start to dry he plunked the patch on it and pressed it down perfectly. Soren glanced up to watch the pages of his tome race away, caught in a gleeful dance with the wind. Ike could walk now without discomfort.
"You shouldn't have done that," said Ike, despondently. Soren sighed and licked his cracked lips.
"If you say that one more time I'm going to stuff that boot down your throat and see if you can complain then."
"Well you shouldn't have," Ike stopped and swallowed when Soren stopped in his tracks. "I mean what if bandits come? How will you defend yourself?" Soren's hand drifted to his limp water skin.
"I would sing and dance if a band of bandits came upon us right now." Soren glanced at Ike. "We wont make it much farther if we don't refill our water skins." Ike grinned a little.
"Would you really sing and dance?" Soren huffed and hitched his pack higher on his shoulder.
"It was a figure of speech, Ike." The mercenary continued to smile though, feeling that for the first time since they had stepped foot in the desert he had won an exchange of words. Soren paused and reached for his water bladder. He tipped it up but all that came out was a few drops. "How much farther till that oasis we were told about?" Ike's expression turned grim.
"Three leagues." Soren sighed.
"I doubt that we'll make it that far." Ike reached for his own bladder and gave it a slight shake then handed it to Soren.
"There's a little left in it." Soren shook his head.
"You keep it. You're just as thirsty as I." Ike seized Soren by the shoulder.
"I'm not wearing black robes, nor am I commanding unwilling spirits to clear us a path. However, I have had more rest than you and am more tolerant to extreme temperatures than you. Drink the damn water." Soren hesitated but Ike's glare was uncompromising. He drank the water.
Ike watched Soren closely after that. He had first began to suspect that the archsage was weakening when he noticed that the sand wasn't skirting their feet quite as willingly. Then he had noticed that Soren was a little unsteady on his feet. He knew the truth when his friend's knees buckled and he hit the sand. Ike silently hoisted smaller man over his shoulder. Soren groaned a little and tried to protest but his throat and mouth was too dry.
Ike paced forward long after his thoughts had turned into an incoherent mess. Whenever he stumbled or fell he simply put his feet back under him, picked Soren back up and continued. The sun glared over head, watching as the two men slowly succumbed to dehydration. Light glared off the sand nearly blinding Ike and the last of Soren's control over the spirits failed him. Ike walked on. There was no room for despair or fear. There was only room for one mantra: must go on, must go on.
The blue haired man thought that it was an mirage at first. It appeared so suddenly and without the slightest thing to herald it that Ike couldn't even bring himself to hope that it wasn't an illusion. He went toward it nonetheless. It was their only chance. Ike couldn't help but weep when he touched the vegetation fed by the oasis. It was real and it was alive.
Ike quickly stumbled to the water hole and drank until he felt quite sick. Then he dipped a strip of cloth from his cape into the water and returned to Soren's side. The arch sage was pale as death but his chest rose and fell slightly. Ike held the wet cloth over Soren's lips and let it drip water into his mouth. Soren started to rouse a little. His eyes, usually so bright and clever seemed dim and confused.
"Soren?" asked Ike hoarsely. "Are you back with me?" Soren licked at the little moisture still on his lips but nodded. Ike assisted him over to the pool and helped him drink.
"Thank you, Ike," whispered Soren huskily. Ike grinned a little.
"It was my turn to save you."
A/N- I hope you liked it. I just wanted to do something to showcase Ike and Soren's friendship after Radiant Dawn. I will try to update this soon but I'm subject to the whims of my muse. If she doesn't feel like singing I can't write. = ( Anyhow I hope that you'll review. I do accept anonymous reviewers.