Memories of Friendship

[Raneth]

Hello everyone. This is a short MS fic that was originally written for Crazyflight's romance contest. I decided to revisit it recently, improve it a bit, and post it here. Enjoy! Any comments or critiques are appreciated.

Memories of Friendship

Part 1--MS Year 832

“There she is!” Quint nearly hit Yolan in the head when he pointed down the row of people who milled in the town square. The hot desert sun poured down, sweat dripping down the back of Yolan’s clothes, but he didn’t mind. Quint’s energy was too infectious.

“I can’t see.” Yolan stood on his tiptoes, peering over the heads of the other villagers. His dark hair was plastered down with the heat and nearly covered his eyes. “There’s too many people.”

“Just wait. She’s sure to see us,” Quint said, bouncing from one foot to the other. “We already have creatures!” He pulled the soft egg from the pocket of his clothes, holding it up. “Show yours too. I’m sure the mage will notice us, and take us to the Keep!”

Yolan took out his own egg, a twin of Quint’s. They had found them two days ago, abandoned in the sands of the desert. Neither boy knew what their eggs would hatch into, but Quint had been sure it was a sign.

“Just think,” Quint continued as the people around them jostled them in their urge to see the mage. “We’ll go to the Keep together and train. No more hot days and hotter nights in the desert, no more famines during the worst of the summers, no more hunting in the desert for food for my stupid brothers, and no more daily searches for more water. It’ll be great. Maybe we’ll even see snow there!”

Yolan had to smile. He didn’t know where Quint had first heard of snow, but the sound of it, a soft, cold blanket, was nice.

The mage came into view, and the reason for all the jostling became apparent. “A winged horse!” Quint shouted.

It was a winged horse, an animal with glossy black fur and huge wings that were folded around the mage who rode in the saddle. The mage herself slouched in the seat, probably not used to the desert heat. Her robes were dark, which Yolan knew was foolish since it would only make the heat worse. Despite her posture, though, her eyes scanned the crowd with interest. Yolan’s heart beat harder.

“She’s looking for mages like us, I’m sure of it!” Quint hissed next to him.

Yolan’s heart nearly beat out of his chest as she grew closer. “Calm down,” Yolan said, half to himself. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Quint sighed. “Don’t be such a downer,” he said. “You’re always too cautious.”

Yolan frowned. “We have to be cautious,” he said, echoing his parents. No one here could afford to be excited about anything, to be anything but careful and cautious. There was too much risk every year, and the rains had stopped coming.

“Don’t worry about caution!” Quint said. A few people glared at them, but Quint ignored them, as he always did. Yolan envied his free spiritedness, his friend like an untamed horse. “We have creatures already! Just trust me!”

“Alright,” Yolan said with a soft smile. Quint beamed back. He always got so happy looking when Yolan smiled at him lately. “I’ll trust you.” Warmth grew in his chest at the look Quint gave him.

“Oh?” A woman’s voice made them both turn, Quint nearly dropping his egg. “Already have creatures, do you?” The woman’s horse blew out a breath, nosing the air around Quint.

“Yes!” Quint said. He held it up. “Look, we both do!”

“A good start. Hold still.” She narrowed her eyes, and Quint grabbed Yolan’s arm, his grip tight. The mage smiled.

This was it. Yolan let hope fill like him warmth filled his parent’s shack every morning when the sun rose. They were going to the Keep, together!

“You,” she said, pointing to Yolan. Quint beamed at her, expecting her to point to him.

But she didn’t. The pegasus turned away, dust pluming under heavy hooves.

They both froze, Quint’s hand still tight on Yolan’s arm.

“Wait!” Yolan said, his voice strangled. “What about Quint?” His friend’s face was like a mask.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sending a knife into his gut. “Just finding a creature isn’t enough. You have to bond with it, too. You have, Yolan, yes?”

The clamor of people around them faded in a rush of blood in Yolan’s ears. “Yes,” Yolan said quietly. “I can sense it.” Quint stared at him.

He had never spoken of it to Quint. He had just assumed his friend felt the same from his egg, the tiny spark that promised something greater.

“That is because you have magic,” she said. “You belong at the Keep. You, however,” and she pointed to Quint this time, “unfortunately, while you will have a good companion, do not have the magic to bond, or perform magic, the way your friend here does. I’m sorry.”

Yolan tried to meet Quint’s eyes, but his friend didn’t look at him. Yolan’s stomach fell. All his hopes died, swirling away into sand in a rush of a breeze.

He had won their dreams. But with them, he would lose his best friend.

***

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Quint hissed to Yolan. The heat of the day had died, the moon shining over the village. Quint’s blond hair looked bedraggled and dark in the poor light, his blue eyes dull. Yolan had said his goodbyes to his family, promising to write. But he didn’t know how to say goodbye to Quint. And early in the morning, he would leave for his new life.

“I didn’t know,” Yolan said, cradling his egg. Quint’s was in a bag at his side. “I…I didn’t know you didn’t feel the magic in it, the way I did. I’m not a mage.”

“Not yet,” Quint said. “But you will be.”

Guilt constricted Yolan’s chest. He just wanted to see Quint smile again before he left.

“So this is it, then.” Quint looked away, his blond hair dim in the pale light from the moon. His voice came out flat. “I’ll never go to the Keep. I’ll never see you again.”

Yolan hated what he heard. “No!” he said. Quint stared, his eyes wide at the emotion in Yolan’s voice. “I’ll write to you every day, I promise. I’ll visit. The mage said I could make money if I do chores at the Keep, and I’ll be a mage one day. I’ll come back!”

Some of the dullness finally left Quint’s face since the mage had turned away from them that afternoon. “You’ll really write every day?”

Yolan nodded.

“And tell me all about the Keep, and creatures and magic, and snow?”

“Of course.”

There it was. He loved seeing Quint’s bright smile.

“Okay.” Quint took a breath, as if absorbing strength from the cool air. “That sounds good. Maybe I’ll make money too. And I still have my creature, of course.” Quint took out the egg. “I may not have magic, but I can still train it. Our creatures can be friends too.”

Yolan sensed the magic in Quint’s egg, and he wished Quint could too. “Yes,” he said. “They will be.”

“I know! How about when you visit, and our eggs hatch, we name them together!”

Yolan nodded. He wanted to kiss Quint, the urge taking him by surprise. Instead he stepped away, his face hot despite the chill desert breeze at night. It was time to go.

“I’ll tell you everything about the Keep. I promise.”


Part 2--MS Year 832, two months later

Yolan tapped his quill against the desk, hoping the sound wouldn’t annoy his sleeping roommate. Quint’s letter lay on the desk, delivered this morning via a caravan. He wanted to write back immediately.

Quint,

The Keep is just as amazing as you imagined. He hoped that didn’t sound like bragging. I’ve seen so many things, and so many creatures, and Master Belmos says it will snow next month. I’ll describe it to you.

Yolan sighed. He wasn’t good with words. Quint’s letter had been full of information about his old desert home, about a new well they had found and how his mother was pregnant with a new baby, and about how his egg twitched sometimes. In the past three months he had been here, Yolan’s egg hadn’t hatched yet either.

Oh, but there was something to tell.

Someone here told me our eggs are fire kitsunes. We’ll have to think of cool names for them. They can be used to send messages! So maybe one day instead of me sending letters through caravans, I can send you immediate letters through fire. I’m not sure how it will work yet, but I’m sure it will. Then we can talk all the time.

Yolan wasn’t sure how it would work if Quint couldn’t use magic, but he would worry about that later.

He kept writing, trying to do his best to describe everything he had seen. The cool weather here, the city that made their village look amazingly tiny, the soaring towers and limestone that shone like diamonds in the sun…

Finally, he paused at the end of the letter. I miss you, he wrote, but it didn’t feel like enough. Quint had signed his letter with your friend, but it felt wrong to Yolan.

But it would have to do. He sealed the letter and left the room. He wanted to send it tonight.

***
It was near six months before he heard back, the caravans bogged down by heavy winter snows. Quint had always been excited about it, but after this winter, Yolan hated it.

Excitement went through him as he opened the sealed letter, spring air flowing in through the window. Beside him, his kitsune yipped, sensing his emotions. “Careful, girl,” he said, patting her head. “Don’t want to burn this.” She hopped up on the desk, peering over his shoulder as if reading along with him.

I miss you too!

Things have been rough here. Mom lost the baby. The doctor said it was because she didn’t get enough to eat, or maybe it was the heat. Yolan frowned. The caravan didn’t get here until after winter, so I hope you’ll tell me all about the snow! It must have been rough there too, huh? Not really. He had been warm and dry inside the Keep’s walls. Your mom was happy with her letter, but she says to write more next time! Mine was longer than hers!

Now that the solstice is over I’m looking forward to the light dance, but I don’t think I’ll dance with any girls. Yolan’s heart thudded. I wish you were here for it. When will you get to visit? I want to see how your egg is doing. Mine is fine. I hope it hatches soon!

Yolan’s kitsune nuzzled him. She had hatched a month ago—probably after Quint had sent the letter, which meant his probably hadn’t hatched by then either.

I turned fifteen last month, which means my dad is letting me help dig out new wells. The last two have gone dry pretty fast. The caravan leader said they may not come often, since our village is getting pretty isolated. Others have apparently moved or migrated or something. That didn’t sound good. But I’m sure we’ll be fine. The Keep sounds great! I want to hear about snow, and about creatures.

The letter went on, asking Yolan about his classes and about magic. Finally, at the end, was a simple

I really miss you,

Your best friend Quint

Yolan stared at it, his throat tight. He had to write back to his parents and to Quint. He wrote Quint’s letter first, and it was twice as long as the one to his parents.

He agonized over the ending. The letter to Quint talked about everything at the Keep, and he wrote all about the snow. Finally, he mentioned the yearly celebration, a dance like the one at the village.

I didn’t dance with any girls either. I wish you were here, or I there. I would dance with you.

His heart pounded, but he signed it with,

I always really miss you,
Love Yolan

“I wish you could send this immediately,” he said to his Kitsune. She yipped, scenting the parchment. It wouldn’t be until she was full grown that she could send letters so far, and she would have to visit the place first. That could take years.

But Yolan would make it happen. Quint would be so happy, he hoped. And they would name their kitsunes together, just as they had promised.

He sent the letters that night.

Part 3--MS Year 834

The reply never came.

“Student Yolan, please report to Master Belmos’s office.” The speaker, a girl who was probably in her third year, tapped him on the shoulder. “He has some news for you.”

Dread knifed through him. It had been a year since he sent his last letter. He had been asking every caravan that went through, and every traveling mage, about his letters, about any word from his village.

The girl didn’t look happy.

“You alright Yolan?” his friend Lauren asked him, and he just nodded, hurrying down the hall. His kitsune, nearly full grown now, trotted at his heels, her tails waving. She peered up at him, her brown eyes wide and full of concern she probably didn’t understand the reason for.

“Master Belmos?” he said, pushing open the double doors without knocking. His heart skipped when he saw Rayen, the Keep’s master healer. Maybe he should have waited.

Master Belmos nodded at Rayen, who left with out a word. “Please, sit,” Master Belmos said.

Yolan sat, his hands numb with nerves.

“I’ve received word from your village,” Master Belmos began. “The situation there is not good. Are you familiar with the schimotisis plague?”

A hand constricted his throat. He nodded. He remembered the stories, the sight of the oldest man in the village. He had lost both eyes to the illness and most of his mind, one that ate at skin and killed or rendered confused nearly everyone it didn’t blind. He had been the only survivor from a far away village, one lost to history.

“The plague has swept through your hometown. We received word this morning. We are uncertain how many are alive, or of the situation there, but—“

“How do you know?” Yolan broke in. “If you don’t know the situation, then how do you know?”

“The leader of the trader’s guild has issued a moratorium on travels there. It has been in effect for months now, known to the western side of the continent, and word was just sent here.” Yolan’s stomach sank, his body like iron. He wondered if Quint had even gotten his letter.

“I am sending experts there to assess the situation and cleanse the well water, which is usually the source of the plague. I am asking if you want to accompany them.”

“Yes,” Yolan said. “Yes, I do.”

“Yolan,” Master Belmos said, taking a breath. He framed his hands in front of him. “The situation there…”

“I know,” he said. “I want to go anyway.”

***
Yolan wiped sweat from his brow when the pegasus landed. It was hotter than he remembered—or maybe he just wasn’t used to it anymore. Even his kitsune, snug on a leash on his lap, panted.

The flags were the first thing he saw. Purple strips of cloth—the sign for plague. They were old and yellowed, probably up for months.

Dust swirled around the village in the distance. No lights shone, and no one, and nothing, moved.

“Stay here.” The mage he had flown with, a woman dressed in healer’s blue, peered into the distance. “It looks abandoned.” Another speck landed some distance away, probably Rayen going to purify the water.

He listened, but heard nothing, not even the barking of the chief’s dog, who always barked when someone arrived.

Yolan’s throat tightened. It couldn’t be. Someone had to be alive. His parents.

Quint.

Sand and dust stung his eyes as he waited, body aching from the heat and from the weight of his old village. He hadn’t even been gone two years, but it looked so different. Sand had formed in clumps against the houses, which looked like shacks now. The Chief would never have let that happen. The streets were gone, covered in blowing sand and dust.

His stomach hit his throat when he saw something moving. Four legged. His kitsune leapt to the ground, yipping.

Another fire kitsune streaked toward them, its fur mangy and gray with dust and its ribs showing through. Yolan’s knees shook.

Quint’s. It had to be Quint’s.

The kitsune stopped short, inches from Yolan and his kitsune. The two sniffed each other, and Yolan sensed magic, some communication.

He dropped to his knees. “Hey,” he said to the other kitsune. “You’re Quint’s, right? His kitsune? Where is he? Take me to him.” His voice shook.

The kitsune stared at him, cocking its head.

“There’s no one here.” Another voice broke through the silence, one of the healers. “No one alive, at least.”

Yolan froze. “Quiet! The woman with him hissed, but it was too late. There was nothing, no sounds of life, to keep her words from his ears. “Don’t you know this is his hometown!?”

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Quint’s kitsune was here. He had to be too. Quint’s kitsune was here…his skinny, starving kitsune.

The healer from before came back, her robes flapping in a gust of wind. “C’mon, Yolan,” she said as she approached, her voice soothing, the voice people always used when something tragic happened. “C’mon, let’s go.”

No. “No!” he reached out, for the kitsune. His last link to Quint. He could take care of her. He couldn’t leave her behind!

The creature turned and fled, streaking into the desert, taking his love for his childhood friend with it.


Part 4 --MS Year 840

“Master Yolan?”

Yolan rolled his eyes, leaning back from his desk. “Don’t call me Master,” he said. “I’m only twenty-two, and I don’t teach any courses.”

“You recruit new students, though, so people call you master now,” the girl said. A third year. Students always got snarky in their third year. “I just wanted to know if I could borrow Quinta. I want to send a letter to my mother.”

An old pain went through him. He wished he had written more to his own parents before the disease. Even Quint had said he should write longer letters. The pain deepened, and he fled from the thought. “Is your mother a mage, or does she also have a fire kitsune?” he asked.

“No kitsune. You know how rare they are. But she’s a mage and knows to expect it. So can I? You send out letters all the time to all the traveling magi. You even sign it Master Yolan.” She grinned.

Yolan sighed. They all called it his newsletter—an update every day to the magi who traveled the world looking for mage potentiates with news on the Keep and of how current students were doing, along with information about towns who reported having youths who could use magic. It made the recruitment system a thousand times easier, and it had been a major reason he had graduated so early. It had been in place for a year now.

“I suppose you can.” The girl held out the letter, and Quinta looked to Yolan before looking back. The letter disappeared in a flash of fire.

“Thanks Master Yolan!” she said with a laugh, and left the office. He hoped not every single person who he sent letters to had just received a copy of a student’s letter to her mother. Quinta could be mischievous like that.

He leaned back in his chair, looking out over the Keep grounds. Soon it would be a decade since he had arrived here that first day, still missing his family and his best friend.

He wished he wasn’t still so alone. He had his friends here, and his peers. But the memories of his village, and of Quint, were still as clear as the blue sky of the desert.

“Master Yolan?”

He sighed, turning back to the door. “I told you, I’m no master.”

“Well, tell that to the guy asking for you, then. He’s downstairs.”

Yolan raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Dunno. Looked like a caravan guy. He seemed confused though. He’s down by the gate.”

Quinta yipped happily, and Yolan gave her a look before standing. “Alright. Probably another letter from a village with a destructive mage candidate. Those were always the funniest. In the last letter, the chief of a village in the Callisto islands had begged them to take a kid into the Keep who kept creating unpoppable bubbles and floating them all over the town. It was probably something Quint would have done, if he had magic.

He headed down the stairs to the gates of the Keep. As soon as he stepped through the main doors onto the lawn, Quinta shot ahead, yipping, her tails streaming behind her.

“Hey!” She hadn’t done that since she was just hatched. Yolan ran ahead, his brow furrowing when there were two sets of yipping.

He froze. There were two fire kitsunes, his and another, playing at the feet of a blond man.

He looked into the man’s eyes—no, eye. One was covered with an eyepatch. The other blazed blue. When he smiled, it was the smile Yolan had always loved, had always dreamed about, even now.

“Master Yolan?” Quint asked.

***

Yolan leaned close, taking in the sight of his old friend as he spoke. The door to Yolan’s office was shut tightly. His hair was honey blond, his shoulders broad and his hands the callused hands of a man who worked long and hard.

“I was very ill for a long time,” he said. “Years. But lucky. I survived. Me and another girl from the village left after…” he trailed off, and Yolan didn’t press. “She married a caravan driver. I still don’t know…” his gaze was distant. “I was confused, for a long time. You know the disease. But then my kitsune came back. She found me.” He reached out, patting her fur. “And I started to remember.”

Yolan ached to touch him, to make sure this was real. “How?”

“It was your kitsune,” he said with an achingly familiar smile. “Or ours, I guess. Mine would give me letters—odd things, mostly. Reports of new students. But once…she sent me a different letter. Less formal.” He looked up, his burning into Yolan’s. “It was strange. Words were missing, like someone had written it from memory, or didn’t know how to spell. But…it was from you. Years ago, I think. Before.”

Before the plague. “But I sent that letter,” Yolan said. He couldn’t stop staring at his friend. “I gave it to a caravan, not to Quinta.”

“Quinta?” Quint raised an eyebrow, and Yolan blushed.

“Her name,” he said. His voice cracked. “I know we said we’d name them together, but I thought…”

Quint leaned forward, taking Yolan’s hands. The touch sent fire up his arms. “She must have remembered it, and sent it.” Yolan remembered how she would watch him write. “Can they do that?”

“They must,” Yolan said. The shock was fading, replaced with heat and giddiness. “They remembered you. She remembered you.”

I wrote you one too,” Quint said. “In reply, after I got it a year ago. I’m sorry it’s a bit late.” He flashed a grin. “It took me a while to travel here.”

Yolan still couldn’t believe this was happening. “I…can I see it?”

Quint took a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket. The letter wasn’t long, just a few words in a shaky hand, the hand of a man who had recovered from an illness that nearly killed him.

I always really missed you too.

Love, Quint

Yolan looked up from the letter, his eyes blurring.

“C’mon, smile,” Quint said. “I always loved your smile.”

Instead, Yolan leaned forward and kissed him. When their lips met and Quint’s arms moved to pull him closer, he knew he should have done this that night, years ago.

On the floor, the two kitsunes wagged their tails.

[crazyflight]

i love it