Flight Mage Seraph

Survivors

No one said much for the rest of the day. The angel appeared reflective, dwelling in his own, mysterious self. Combustion, however, was not reflective at all. He moved agitatedly and wore the darkest scowl Seraph had ever seen. The flight mage kept quiet, worried that one wrong word would cause him to explode.

The sun set and they prepared dinner in the same, tense silence. Combustion collected wood for the fire while Caleb gathered berries for their meal, with certain movements that showed he knew which plants were safe to eat from. Seraph, limited by both his weighty charm and exhaustion, attempted to help out anyway. After Combustion growled that he was more a hindrance than a help, however, he kept out of the way. The meal was unpleasant and the Furan retired straight afterwards.

This left Seraph to clean up. The mage inclined his head to the side to indicate that he would like to talk to the angel at some distance from Combustion; Caleb nodded. Once they had moved though, Seraph did not know what to say, or rather he didn't know where to begin. He washed the dishes in silence as the heavenly being looked on.

"Is he always this aggressive?" Caleb suddenly asked.

Seraph jumped. "Oh, no. I'm sorry about that, sir. He is normally calm, but he can be temperamental and maybe he has been overanxious."

"Oh?"

"Combustion must be worried over how the angels will punish him."

"That is a reasonable fear. I think the angels will be understanding though."

"Great! I was anxious too. The two of us were beginning to get along quite well before you came—not that this is your fault, of course,” he added hastily, “and he seems to be a decent man. Maybe he will be less agitated when I tell him that the angels won’t punish him."

"I'm afraid it is not as easy as that."

Seraph stopped in the act of drying a bowl. "Why?"

"Furans have a natural tendency to be wary of angels. Several thousand years ago, a massive earthquake struck the land that now separates West and East Sentralia. Furans occupied most of West Sentralia back then, while Sentralians lived in the east. The quake killed thousands on both sides and we angels felt such compassion that we descended from the heavens to help the survivors. When the humans saw us, the Sentralians acclaimed us as saviours and accepted our aid gratefully, but the Furans fled. Some Furans still blame us for the earthquake and say that we encouraged Sentralians to invade their land."

Seraph had never heard that story in his history lessons. "Did we?"

"Did we what?"

"Invade West Sentralia."

"Goodness, no! The Furan farmers simply abandoned their land, claiming it was cursed. After a while, the Sentralians wandered over and began using it."

"So that's why Combustion does not trust you. I will speak to him tomorrow, I promise.”

"I have noticed that he distrusts you too," Caleb said, looking pointedly at the charm on Seraph's ankle.

The mage blushed. "I suppose so, but I think he would consider my words carefully, even though he regards me as an enemy."

"And you do not see him the same way?"

"No,” Seraph smiled. "The Furans, Sudeni and Aidi study in both West and East Sentralia and they always refuse to join either army after they graduate. It’s a tradition dating back to the beginning of the Mage War and one that the Sentralians eventually, and reluctantly, accepted.”

Caleb nodded. “I know.”

“Apparently, other countries never considered the war all that important and at first, they had their own conflicts to deal with as well, especially the Aidi. 'It would be tragic if my people became involved in the Sentralians’ war,' a fellow Aidi student once told me, 'when peace within my own land had been so hard-won.'”

“Yes, I know.”

“Combustion had never fought against the Easterners, so he is not my enemy and I hope he will understand that I am not his."

Caleb stared at him for a long time and then he smiled too. "This is why I must go to Angalas. I was not meant to land here, but I am meant to give a message to the Sentralians."

"A message? From the angels?" Seraph gasped, forgetting the bowls he had started to pack away. "What message is that?"

Caleb took the dishes from Seraph's hands and patted him on the shoulder. "I can't tell you yet. It would have more impact if most of Angalas hears it at the same time, rather than having it spread like a trickle. Rest assured, however, that it will lead to lasting peace and happiness because no one will see the other as an enemy anymore."

---

Seraph sank into the warm comfort of his bed. He wanted to grieve for Brian, reflect on the ghost and decide what to do about the new, unwelcome, Western magic he’d gained, but he had a long trek next day. Right now, he needed to put aside all anxieties and sleep.

"Hugh? Still awake?"

He suppressed a groan. Why would anyone disturb him at this hour? The intruder walked into the room, eliciting soft creaks from the floor, and he sat up.

"Maeryn?"

It was unlike her to interrupt his rest, even if she delighted in persecuting him, and this did not seem to be her intention. Her face, lit by a single candle, was utterly serious.

She sat at the foot of his bed, not bothering to place the candle on the chest beside her. "Be careful in the battlefield, little brother," she said.

He sighed. "You are thinking of Brian, aren't you?"

"A little, but I've long ago resigned myself to the possibility that he may never return." She paused and he knew that she was thinking of their oldest sister, Perdita. "I worry less over your death than over who you may become."

"I…don't understand." Why was she acting this way?

"You will. If nothing else," she replied in a trembling voice, "I want you to understand that not everyone you'll fight will be your enemy." She tried to say more, but tears welled in her eyes and she rushed out, leaving Seraph stunned and befuddled.

---

Seraph spent much of the next morning trying to convince Combustion to accept Caleb. While the Furan listened, Seraph had the impression that he wasn't making much progress. He had little more luck persuading him to remove the charm, despite claiming that it would prevent them from reaching Angalas in time for the Angels Festival, when Caleb would have a huge audience. A grumpy "I will consider it" was all he received.

They reached the edge of Skeleton Forest, just two days later. Seraph was too exhausted to gather the strength to cheer, but Caleb dashed out to greet the uninterrupted sky. Combustion briefly smiled, perhaps too tired, or still too disgruntled, to do more. They did, however, celebrate the occasion by setting up camp early. Combustion cooked an especially large and flavoursome meal and after dinner, Seraph entertained with his recorder, playing a few religious tunes he thought the angel might appreciate. The fire mage had the grace not to comment on his choices.

Eventually, they prepared to sleep. "Get plenty of rest," Combustion told Seraph. "We still have a long trek ahead and I lack money for horses. No," he added when the flight mage gazed pointedly at his charm, "that will remain for some time yet. The rest of our journey should be uneventful, so we will be able to travel at a more leisurely pace. If we arrive too late for the Angels Festival, I am sure Caleb will work another ‘miracle’ to spread his message effectively."

In reply, Seraph simply sighed and wrapped his blanket around his chin. He wished Combustion would trust them both and he hated to leave his family imprisoned, but maybe a slow, uneventful journey was a blessing after the past few days.

---

"What is happening?" Seraph exclaimed. He shivered as the noise drew nearer.

Nobody replied, but he received his answer soon enough. Over the hill thundered three carriages pursued by two flying creatures. As they came closer, Seraph recognised the beasts as dragons. His blood froze and he took an involuntary step back.

Combustion’s reaction was entirely different. He snarled and he sprinted up the hill, followed rapidly by Caleb.

Which left Seraph to look on helplessly as tragedy unfolded. One dragon blew a fireball, which torched a carriage. Several figures, mostly those of children, leapt out, but the beast pounced and reduced them all to smouldering, twisted corpses. The other creature flew over another carriage, overturning and crushing it with its muscled tail.

Flame struck its snout just before its jaws snapped onto the final carriage. It flinched and bellowed at Combustion. The fire mage shouted back his defiance and, with a flick of his hand, created a column of blue flame between the dragon and its prey. It swerved to the right, but he blocked again.

The other beast surged forward and he erected a second column. This one, however, was much weaker, with only orange-and-yellow flames. The dragon burst through with barely a sign of pain.

And suddenly stopped. Caleb had grabbed its tail and dug his heels into the ground, using his superhuman mass and strength to stall the monster. It whirled around, but he dodged its jaws while refusing to let go.

Seraph doubted that either companion would last much longer though. Combustion's flame was fading to white and his opponent simply hovered, waiting for the fire to cool to a bearable temperature. When it did, or when Caleb lost—

Then it happened. Caleb's dragon whipped its tail to the side, catching the angel by surprise. The angel was flung into a shrub. Combustion cried out, but he could only watch as it caught and burned the last carriage and its inhabitants.

Seraph flinched away from the heat and the horrible sight. He felt as if he had failed everyone. Combustion and Caleb had tried, but they were likely to become prey now that the carriages were destroyed. Encumbered by his charm, he could help neither them nor himself—

Or maybe he could. "Spirits,” he called, “please come to our aid. If you care, bring the dragons back to their forest."

The air seemed to freeze in suspense. It shimmered and then milky forms appeared, slowly coalescing into three dragons even larger than the ones that attacked the carriages. Seraph gaped. He had not meant to call these spirits!

They turned towards the living dragons, who stood in stunned silence. In fact, everyone was silent. Combustion stared open-mouthed, allowing his flames to die through neglect, and Caleb had stopped trying to disentangle his wings from the shrub. All Seraph could hear was the crackling of burning carriages and the thudding of his own heart.

The largest ghost opened its mouth. At that point, Seraph was ready to cry out, but what he heard next caused him to forget his fear. Instead of roaring or spewing fire, it spoke in a low, rhythmic rumble that seemed almost musical. Seraph was entranced and so, perhaps, were the living dragons. They listened, they bowed their heads reverently and, when the ghosts stopped speaking, they flew back without hesitation.

The spirits turned to Seraph. "T-thank you," he said, hoping they understood. "Thank you very much." He bowed and when he straightened, they had disappeared.

---

"Most were Westerners with Eastern powers. That suggests that the few not in grey uniforms were their keepers or guards."

"Are they the Westerners’ prisoners, sir?"

Combustion ignored the conversation between Seraph and Caleb. He did not trust himself to speak, given his conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he was grateful to have survived, but he was appalled to see such carnage again, angered that he could not stop it and frustrated by the friendship between Seraph and Caleb.

And what was he to do with his prisoner now? The charm was effective against flight magic only. If all Seraph could do was see ghosts, Combustion would not have been bothered, but the flight mage had summoned them without any training! This was powerful and dangerous spirit magic. Seraph could easily command spirits to attack his captor and aid his escape. Combustion would have to ensure that Seraph did not understand his full potential before they reach Angalas.

"What have we here?"

Combustion's attention was drawn back to Caleb, who had lifted the overturned carriage. Beneath it lay several, crushed corpses—and a girl of about ten. She was pale and unconscious, but she breathed, so he carried her away from the carriage. Closer examination revealed only a few bruises. He smiled. She should recover completely if she had no internal injuries.

"What a cute girl," Seraph said. "Why would anyone imprison someone as young as her?"

Combustion felt like punching the flight mage into a pulp. What a hypocritical question! Surely Seraph knew!

Neither Seraph nor Caleb seemed to notice him closing his hands into fists, for they continued their conversation. "The Westerners fear that those with Easterner magic will conspire with the enemy,” the angel said, “so these children were removed from their families, guarded and discouraged from developing their abilities.”

“That’s unfair,” Seraph insisted. “I have Western magic and I’ve always been loyal to the Eastern side.”

Caleb looked at him thoughtfully. “Indeed, but you did not dare to reveal this gift until today, did you?”

“Well—” The flight mage looked a little shame-faced.

“In your case, it was a wise decision. People like this girl are actually treated quite well in comparison to those like you."

Seraph looked stunned. "But, sir, I was told—"

"You were misinformed. In East Sentralia, those with Western magic are treated brutally. Most do not survive for more than a month in the Eastern prisoner camps, so consider yourself lucky that no Easterner knew of your new ability."

The flight mage began to protest again, but at that moment, the girl stirred in Combustion's arms. She slowly opened her eyes and, seeing an unfamiliar face, tried to squirm away.

"Calm down," the fire mage ordered, but the girl continued to struggle. "For goodness sake, you are in safe hands! See? An angel protects you." Anything to calm her down!

She looked at the angel. "Really?” she gasped. “I never imagined this was possible! My name is Sara Mageborn, Holiness." She unsteadily rose to her feet and curtsied.

If he had been able to, Combustion would have raised an eyebrow. So this was the girl his teacher had been writing to when they first met.

"A lovely name," the angel replied. "Mine is Caleb. Would you tell me why the dragons were chasing you?"

"Well, we were delayed on our way to Angalas because of all the rain—our carriages kept getting stuck in mud—and we were running low on supplies. There was no town or village nearby, so Madam Topaz told us to forage. One of us found a giant egg at the edge of the woods, but maybe it was the dragons' food because those beasts sure weren't happy when he tried to take it…"

Combustion and Seraph exchanged a glance. The landslide must have frightened the dragons into straying far from their usual territory and towards the edge of Skeleton Forest, where they laid their egg. Combustion was relieved to know that they had not left the woods to hunt or extend their territory; a dragon hunt should be unnecessary.

"…Is everyone else all right?"

Caleb sighed. "I'm sorry, but we were unable to help. You are the only survivor."

"J-just me?" She wailed, burying her face into the angel. "My friends. I should’ve died with them."

"There, there," he said as he rubbed her back. "You could do nothing about it. Bad luck caused your group's demise and good luck ensured that you remained. And now luck smiles upon you again, for you will travel not only with me, but with a fire mage and flight mage as well."

"No!" she screamed. Her eyes widened in terror as she clutched the startled angel's clothing. "Flight mages are evil, EVIL! Don't make me go with them."

It took the angel a long time to calm her and even then she insisted on walking some distance from the mages, forcing Caleb to separate himself from them too. Combustion absently noted that the angel did not tell her which was the flight mage and Sara did not ask. Perhaps, he mused, she had forgotten there was a fire mage.

"Why would she think such a thing?" Seraph whispered, obviously hurt and uncomprehending.

Combustion stared at Seraph thoughtfully. So Seraph did not know about the Easterner prison camps, nor why Westerners would consider him evil. Was he also unaware of the incidents? Maybe the group should make a detour.

"You will discover that tomorrow."