Flight Mage Seraph

Refugee

Seraph flew over the picturesque town of Streamway, laughing as the wind brushed over his hair and skin. He smiled at the birds that gathered around him and waved to the people passing below. Very soon, he found himself beyond the town and over lush fields. He could have followed the road to his destination, but he had flown there many times before; he knew how its roof appeared from above. Instead, he zigzagged leisurely over farms and hamlets until he saw the familiar rooftop.

His family stood outside the door. As soon as he landed, they rushed to welcome him. Seraph returned their greetings and hugs enthusiastically.

"It's good to have you back," his mother said, planting a kiss on his cheek, "I have been looking forward to introducing you to two, new family members."

"Two?" Seraph asked, "Your last letter said that Carl and Agatha have a new baby, but I haven't read of anyone else."

A man who looked vaguely familiar to Seraph stepped up and bowed. "Mage, my name is Amory Geraldson. You may remember me; we met when your family travelled to the village fair a year ago.

"With your parents' blessings, Peony and I recently became engaged. I am most honoured to become a brother-in-law to such an eminent person and I hope you will be able to attend our wedding."

Seraph could feel a blush spreading over his face and neck. "Oh, no need to be so formal, Amory. You can call me Seraph, or even Hugh."

"Actually, call him Hugh. After all, he is only a boy who happens to have magical power."

Seraph suppressed a sigh at Maeryn's snide remark. So she still hasn't forgiven him for usurping her place as centre of the family, but he could not help being the youngest sibling or being able to fly. When would she accept him for who he was?

"Maeryn!" Carl growled, "Can't you be nice to him for just one evening? He'll make his way to the battlefield tomorrow and who knows if we'll see him alive again?"

His father waved him into silence. "Now, now! We won't have such dark talk tonight. Let's go inside and eat the wonderful dinner the women cooked for us. It's one of your favourites, Seraph, rabbit and corn casserole."

"Great," Seraph replied. His mouth was already watering. He smiled at his parents, Carl, Agatha, the nephews, Peony, Amory and even—

"Wait!"

Everyone stared at Seraph in confusion. "Brian," he said, "He was meant take special leave from the army to attend my Farewells Evening. Is he not here?"

Maeryn shifted uncomfortably. "Mum and Dad received a letter from him telling us he'd be back by midday today, but knowing him, he probably found a good fishing spot and couldn't help himself. He should be back soon enough."

Her uncharacteristic attempt to reassure Seraph only increased his unease. What happened to Brian?

---

In the distance, a cock crowed. Seraph was still too tired to sit up, even though the ground he slept on felt uncomfortable. Nevertheless, his right hand began to move, searching for something familiar. When it grasped the firm, wooden cylinder that was his recorder, he sighed and drifted off again.

---

The neighbours came soon afterwards, to offer Seraph gifts for his term of service. They played music together and exchanged news until late in the night.

Then the guests left. Agatha and Carl carried the children to bed while other relatives cleaned up. Despite his protestations, he was given little opportunity to help, so he sat by the window and cleaned his recorder instead. When he finished, Brian was still not home. Something was very wrong.

"He should've left the army after his compulsory service," Maeryn grumbled behind him. He could hear her roughly dragging the chairs back to their original positions.

"A soldier brings great respect to his family when he serves beyond his normal term," Peony said.

"We already have enough respect! Hugh is a mage after all—and maybe an important one too."

Seraph continued to stare out the window, trying to block out the increasingly heated argument between his two surviving sisters. He wished Brian would return. Brian would make everything better; he always did.

Something flickered in the distance. Seraph stood and pressed his face against the cold glass, willing the vague form into clarity. It slowly floated towards the house and he could soon make out a human figure. A soldier. Someone with a familiar face—

"Brian?"

He dashed outside, heedless of the surprised cries behind him. Icy wind blasted him and then he found himself alone.

"Please come back inside, dear," his mother called.

He stared at the empty darkness before him and turned to face his equally confused family. "I thought…I thought I saw Brian."

"You're tired, dear. It's obvious there's no one out here, so why don't you get some sleep? Maybe Brian will return before you leave next morning."

Everyone nodded in agreement, but Seraph knew what he saw. It was Brian, except that he looked different. He was paler and wore a solemn, even sorrowful, face. Most tellingly, he was half covered with bandages. Brian would not return.

---

"What are you doing here?" a harsh voice said.

Seraph blinked and the first thing he saw was a pitchfork pointed at his throat. He swallowed.

"Are you a Sentralian soldier, lad?" the farmer continued more gently, "I understand the war up there is brutal, but I can't be sheltering deserters."

"I…I'm not deserting, sir. The Mage War is over and the Westerners won. I am running from them."

The old man gaped and removed the pitchfork from Seraph's neck, to the latter's relief. "Well I never! After 500 years, I thought it would never end. I'm sorry for your loss, lad.

“So, what's your name?"

Seraph, however, had his mind on other matters. The farmer looked rather like his father, but a slight difference in accent and clothing, and the way he defined Seraph by his nationality instead of which side he had fought for, suggested that he was Sudeni. Which meant—

"Lad? Are you listening?"

Seraph jumped. "Oh, sorry! I'm Hugh. Hugh Thatcher. And you are?"

"Landis Fields. You've been sleeping on the edge of my plot. Oh, don't apologise. I can see you're tired, dirty and probably hungry. Since you seem to mean no harm, what about a meal with my family, followed by a bath? After that, we can decide what to do with you."

"Thank you very much." Seraph couldn't believe his luck; he just had to ask. "Mr. Fields, is that really Skeleton Forest behind me and am I really in Sudenland?"

This time, Landis staggered back. "You went through that forest? Very few who enter it emerge alive, let alone in as decent a condition as you! How did you do it?"

"I don't know." It was the truth. He barely remembered anything of his journey.

Landis peered at the trees. "That cursed forest must remove the memories of the survivors too. I should've known. A Sentralian soldier has never appeared so far east before." He shook his head and continued in a much brighter tone. "Well, you sure are one lucky person and I never let someone so special slip away. I think I can find a way for you to earn your feed and lodgings." He clamped a meaty hand on Seraph's shoulders and laughed.

The mage suppressed a sigh. So he was "special" here too.

---

Great Mage Daylight II and Truth walked away from the prisoners, satisfied in the knowledge that most of the prominent Eastern mages, including the former Great Mage, had been captured alive. Daylight planned to place them and he expected that most would end up disgraced and hung. As for the civilian mages, they could be pressed into service, for the Academy must not only be rebuilt, but also expanded.

Daylight grimaced. His forces had to go berserk after they found the Easterner's prisoner camps. Understandably, the soldiers were upset over the abuses suffered by the inmates, but by the time he'd regained order, over half of the Academy staff were dead or dying, and although a greater proportion of the students survived, most were too traumatized to learn. He had to allow the pupils an early holiday. At least the extended break would give the Academy's new Master Mage time to find replacement teachers.

"It's not your fault, Great Mage," Truth murmured as she walked behind him, "You had told your soldiers to treat Easterners well."

Daylight grunted. "I should have emphasized it more than I did."

His advisor did not reply to that.

They stopped before two rows of corpses. Despite their mostly unrecognisable states, Daylight knew they were all flight mages from their distinctive azure-and-white uniforms. He was disgusted to observe that many were children.

A young woman in Easterner dress came towards him and she curtsied. "Did you find Virtue?" he asked her.

She pointed to one of the bodies, that of a woman with short, dark, curly hair peeping from her cap. "Great Mage, Virtue was captured alive, but she died of her injuries."

"Too bad. I had hoped to see her executed. And Seraph?"

"He I could not find. Seraph is a very skilled flyer for his age, so he may have escaped."

Daylight suppressed a groan. Seraph, the man regarded as the future conqueror of the Westerners, absolutely must be captured or killed. Glumly, Daylight imagined his men and women roaming all over Sentralia in search of that mage. If Seraph were smart, he would refrain from revealing himself until he was ready to challenge Daylight. If he were also sensible enough to hide among sympathetic Easterners, he would be even more difficult—and dangerous—to capture. And this was assuming that he had not escaped to Sudenland, where the populace came from the same stock as the Sentralians. Prophecy could be so treacherous!

"Maybe we have not found his body yet," he muttered without much hope.

"I don't know," Truth said, "According to one of our mages, one young man flew into the woods towards the end of the battle; he could be Seraph. Since the woods in question is Skeleton Forest, he may well have died there, but we should search everywhere else before drawing this conclusion."

"Excuse me, Great Mage," the young woman said, "I believe I know a way to either confirm his demise or capture him with minimal risk."