runiclore

Miscalculation
Author: Amber Michelle
Challenge: 11 – memory
Word Count: 500
Game: Radiant Dawn

Warnings: spoilers for the end of RD.

Cross-posted at

fe_drabble.

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Fine, powdery dust greeted Soren when he opened the door to Ike's room. Sunlight in long, dirty shafts felt through the room, forged a path to the crisply folded gray sheets tucked around a flat feather mattress. He tossed and turned, always a little too large for the frame of the bed. A green bottle, now a vase, was left on the edge of the table, its lily browned around the edges and dying, abandoned when Mist realized something in the room was amiss and called him back from Melior.

Where is he? Soren's feet had barely touched the ground when Mist shouted. She ran across the courtyard to meet him, grabbed the bridle when his horse shied at the snap of her call. Where did he go? He must have told you!

Ike's weapons were gone, key items missing: the whetstone, oil, plates of armor, two leather belts and both pairs of boots. The clothes made for his appearances at court were still in their cedar chest, but the heavy winter cloak was gone, the long hunting knife, the fishing line, the leather pack. Oscar said a chunk of salt was cut from the mold in the pantry, the missing piece probably the size of a man's fist. The remains of the stash of jerky and flatbread had disappeared, and coins were left on the table.

How like him to think of his company to the end - they would say it later, when they wanted to remember the good things about Ike, rather than the way he disappeared during the night and left his scent fading in the room, oily and leathery, a ghost.

Soren miscalculated. Mistakes of this caliber earned only one reward.

Mist couldn't leave well enough alone. She haunted his footsteps, followed him to the room and the kitchens, and everyone else was curiously absent. Why would he tell me anything? he finally snapped when she opened her mouth again.

She had the nerve to grab his arm with both hands. He trusts you--

Obviously not.

Soren checked the stable to be thorough, but he knew Ike would go on foot. He was sentimental enough to leave money for the base stores; taking a horse was out of the question. When determined his stride would eat distance, perhaps cover five leagues before he would collapse and sleep for most of a day if left unchecked. When strolling - his step still worth two of Soren's - he might make three in a day. He would be unable to resist a call for help. In two weeks he would run out of food and be forced to hunt. There would be a trail to follow this time - a name and a reputation, and two distinctive swords.

And still, Soren would be unable to catch up to him.

But he left their old base anyway, and never looked back.

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