Flight Mage Seraph

Penitent

Seraph's body tingled with excitement and fear. It was his fourth mission, but only the first one under the command of revered Captain Virtue and the first one that required him to attack deep behind enemy lines.

It was a fine day for flying. The sky was cloudless with a hue that matched the squadron's uniform, and optimal for slipping past the enemy. Dead, brown land peppered with soldiers, horses and tents passed beneath them, followed by uninhabited ground on which more and more vegetation appeared. Soon, Seraph could distinguish a road. They followed it until they came to a town, where Virtue signalled them to stop.

A grim smile touched her lips. "Look at them, scurrying like ants."

The townspeople did indeed seem tiny from where he hovered. Even so, he reminded himself, his friends and family looked just like them when he flew high enough. The town itself looked just like an average Eastern town too. He doubted that most of those below were soldiers. There had to be some mistake.

He suddenly felt the shocked gaze of eleven other mages. Then Virtue herself drew her breath in sharply and Seraph knew that he had accidentally voiced his thoughts.

"Seraph," she said in a dangerous voice, "as a future leader of East Sentralia, you cannot afford such naivety. Don't you remember how these heretics murdered Brian while he was travelling to your Farewells Evening?"

"Their cruelty extends much further than that," another mage spat, "Our raid will stop their barbarity and keep the enemy from our families."

Seraph finally forced his tongue to move. “But these people aren’t our enemy!”

“Wrong,” Virtue replied. “They are our enemies; they aid the Western soldiers! If not for them, we would have won many years ago, before your siblings could have fought and died!”

She placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "This is not an easy lesson, but it must be learnt and I am glad we had this discussion. You understand now, don't you?"

Seraph hesitated; the remonstrations had left him stunned and something within him still cried out against the impending attack. Perhaps Virtue understood, perhaps she had encountered similar objections before, for she waited for his response.

He gulped. "Y-yes, Captain."

"Good," she smiled. "You may drop the bomb now!"

---

Seraph was in a foul mood next morning. Not only had Combustion decided to extend their journey through a detour, the previous night’s dream was nagging and worrying him. It bothered him more than any previous nightmare, as if it was somehow…prophetic. Of course, that was ridiculous. Even if he was a prophecy mage, how could the past be predictive?

Combustion led the party towards the ruins. The closer the foursome came, the faster he pushed. Seraph was glad the charm had lightened enough to allow him to keep up, but why was the fire mage so eager to reach the ruins? Surely his destination lay further away. It must be!

So Seraph almost collided with Combustion when the Furan stopped. "What are you doing?" Seraph almost shouted. He really needed more sleep and fewer surprises.

Combustion did not reply. At first, he did not even look at Seraph. When he did, his face bore an expression the flight mage recognized as forced detachment, as if Combustion was trying to feign calmness. Seraph’s fury turned to concern.

He stared at Combustion, but the fire mage’s face revealed little, so Seraph turned to his environment for an answer. The area was bleak. Burnt remnants of homes crouched among piles of rubble. Shrapnel and bone lay near his feet. On one side appeared to be part of a wall, perhaps one that used to enclose a village. Apart from chirping birds, the only signs of life came from seedlings and flowers that struggled through cracks and over debris. It was as if all previous inhabitants were wiped out a few months ago.

A few months ago.

Seraph gasped. He recognized the village and his every moment there surfaced now in harsh detail. Piled corpses. Fire. Meandering streams of blood.

"What do you know?" Combustion asked in a carefully neutral tone.

"It was my third and final successful mission against non-soldiers. In previous missions, I had attacked from far above, but Captain Virtue said they weren't effective enough and we really had to make an example of this village."

"Wonderful," he said drily.

"The squadron was ordered to eliminate every adult, so we flew into the village to ensure that that happened." He shivered. "It was so bloody though."

"And children who lived here?” Combustion’s low voice reminded Seraph of Virtue during her angry moods.

"I may have killed a few children inadvertently when burning down the buildings," he said, painfully aware that Sara and Caleb were also listening, "and I…I regret that, but the attack was necessary and I spared as many as possible. Virtue said such casualties were impossible to avoid."

"I don't believe this!" Combustion exploded. "I arrived here just two days after this massacre to find only one survivor! How is one child 'as many as possible'?"

"There was more than one!" Seraph yelled back. "Don't make it sound worse than it was!"

"If I may intrude…"

Caleb stepped forward, half forcing Sara to come with him. The girl, Seraph noticed, refused to look at him.

"…Seraph told the truth. When the assault was over, there were ten survivors in that village."

Combustion's eyes narrowed. "Is that so? Why was there just one then?"

"Nine were murdered afterwards."

"What?" Seraph cried. "They were alive and healthy when I left, sir. Virtue assured me they would be released."

"And you believed that vixen?" the fire mage snarled.

"Virtue was a heroine to the Easterners," Caleb said to Seraph. "Unfortunately, she achieved her status as much through cruelty as through skill and leadership. She wanted you to follow in her footsteps, but you became physically ill after this attack, so she sent you back and killed the nine herself."

Combustion scowled. "You angels knew this and did nothing to stop it?"

"Furan, you must understand—"

"Wait!" Seraph interrupted. "I don't understand. Why would Virtue want me to be ruthless?"

"She wanted you to annihilate the Westerners," Caleb replied, "which she considered impossible if you retained any compassion for them. This was why she coerced you into increasingly bloody acts. If the Westerners had not become adept at protecting their civilians, who knows what you might have become."

Seraph stared, speechless. Sara and Combustion were right. His actions were evil. He was evil. His vision blurred as tears sprang from his eyes.

---

Caleb quietly slipped from his blanket and walked away. Early morning, he had learned, was the best time to seek solitude, since this was when the girl was asleep and was no longer clutching his arm. With such a clingy child, he wasn’t receiving enough time to properly reflect on his situation.

A short distance away was a pool. He knelt beside it and began to wash his face, arms and feet. When he was in the heavens, he never really considered his own cleanliness or sleep or food or drink. Exhaustion was rarely an issue.

Now he had most of the limitations of a human, one with clumsy wings that sometimes got in his way. He had to lie on his back for long periods and taste…just taste. Food and water are such strange things that he didn’t know whether he ‘liked’ any of them or not. He didn’t know whether he could like them, even if they were prepared by Combustion, who Seraph claimed was the best cook after his own mother.

“Holiness.”

Sara was behind him, holding out a bunch of berries. “I picked them for you.”

“Thank you.” He politely began to eat and she sat beside him silently.

“Last night, the Furan mage said that he will go to a market today,” he said after a while. “I cannot come, but would you like to join him?”

She shook her head. “No. He said mean things to you, Holiness.”

“Yes, he did,” Caleb replied, patting her on the head, “but I can’t always be around and I’m sure that he’s nice enough to protect you when I leave. Besides, he wants to find a nice dress for you and if you don’t come, he might buy one that’s too large or small.”

She frowned in thought. “Will Seraph come?”

“No,” he sighed, “I think not.”

Sara nodded, but her eyes remained troubled.

---

"I don’t understand. He kept saying 'sorry' in his sleep, so is he evil?"

Combustion glanced at Sara's befuddled face. She had remained close to Caleb in the days since the revelations, but she'd asked to shop with the Furan this morning. He supposed that she might have accompanied him earlier if he had not been beside Seraph the entire time.

"He is an idiot, not evil," he replied. "As far as I can determine, Seraph had simply trusted his superiors too much.”

Sara fingered her new dress. "But he's Seraph. Shouldn't he lead and not follow bad people?"

Combustion grunted and shrugged. Little about Seraph made sense. All he knew was that he had to bring the flight mage out of his depression; if he only knew where to begin. He almost regretted confronting the flight mage over the raids.

But he could do nothing about it right now. Setting his concern aside for the time being, he shifted his attention to the coat in his hand. It was of good quality, unlike the clothes he had borrowed from Seraph. Just as promisingly, it was dyed a bright shade of red. Combustion would be glad to never see the colour green again.

“I’ll buy this,” he told the shopkeeper.

"What's your name?" Sara asked as he handed over some coins. "I must have missed it when you were introduced."

Trust the angel to neglect to mention his name. "Then I will introduce myself. My name is Shuxue of Jinse and I am also known as the fire mage Combustion."

"Well, I'm Sara Mageborn and I’m a…a…you don't want to know," she finished with a flush. "I can't do it anyway."

"Do what?"

"Nothing."

Combustion stifled a growl of frustration. "What one does with her abilities matters more than what magic she has. Besides, your mother once said that she too had trouble mastering her powers at first."

"You knew my mother? "

"She was Flame, correct? We met a few times when she was recovering from battle injuries. She spent part of her recovery period teaching at the Western Academy, where I was studying. I remember she spoke of you with pride."

Sara stared at the pavement. "Mother didn't know about my magic before she died," she whispered.

"She would have loved you anyway," he said firmly, ignoring the corner of his mind that rebelled against the idea. "What is your gift?"

Her answer was so quiet he wasn't sure that she said anything. He bent down to her level. "Could you repeat that?"

"Flight." It was more a whimper than a word.

Combustion straightened, pleased. Perhaps he could help both flight mages. "Seraph will be able to help you harness your gift. No need to worry!" he added as Sara stepped back. "He will not bite. In fact, he will probably regard this task as a form of penance.

"Now, what else do we need?"

Sara obviously wanted to argue against his proposal, but his tone convinced her to keep her thoughts to herself. "Um…more food?"

---

Seraph listened as Sara babbled over dinner. He might have asked why she called Combustion Shoo-shoo or why the Furan looked increasingly irritated, but he was too depressed to care. She was directing all of her conversation to the others anyway, and he needed no explanation for this behaviour.

How could he have forgotten Maeryn's words? How could he have murdered these people?

"They are our enemies; they aid the Western soldiers!"

Seraph silenced Virtue’s words with a shake of his head. He had packed food for soldiers when he was a boy. Was that so different to whatever the Westerners did? Did he not say that Combustion was not an enemy, even though the fire mage probably helped the Western army too? His thoughts left him more miserable than ever.

Combustion soon began to clean up. When he came to Seraph, the flight mage handed his bowl without protest, despite having eaten only half his food. Combustion frowned, but said nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Seraph saw that Caleb and Sara staring at him too.

Seraph could not deal with the attention right now. He just wanted to bury himself so no one could ever find him. Since this was impossible, he turned away, dragged a blanket over his head and lay still, listening as his companions moved around him. Caleb was the first to say goodnight. Sara also said the same, although with a trembling voice.

Combustion usually slept last and Seraph waited tensely, dreading the bloody nightmares that came with the empty night. He heard the fire mage rummaging through a bag, a sure sign he that Combustion would soon sleep; unlike the others, the fire mage never said goodnight.

So Seraph was surprised when Combustion touched his shoulder. "I know you are awake," he whispered, his breath tickling Seraph's ear. "We need to discuss a few issues."

"Hm?" Seraph gazed at the Furan.

"First, Sara is a flight mage who lacks both experience and skill. She wants lessons, but she is shy and she has left it to me to request instructions for her. Will you teach her?"

She trusted him that much? Seraph sat up. "You don't need to ask," he said, almost before Combustion had finished. "I’ll do what I can for her."

"Good. Second, I have been watching you and I am satisfied that your remorse is sincere. I believe you will escape execution when we return to Angalas."

"Great," Seraph said numbly. Survival was important, but at that moment, it seemed trivial. His name, the one given by a respected prophet mage and admired and envied by others, now filled him with doubt and shame.

The fire mage seemed to understand. He did not speak further, instead placing his hand on Seraph's leg. The charm fell off with a clatter.

Seraph’s jaw dropped. "What?" he gasped. "Why?"

"I think I can trust you," Combustion smiled, "especially while you have an angel to escort and Sara to teach. Now, goodnight."

"Wait, uh, Combustion?"

"What is it?" He was already pulling a blanket out of a bag.

"Um, why does Sara call you Shoo-shoo?"

Combustion grimaced. "I gave her my birth name. She misheard it and I have been unable to correct it since."

"Oh?” That was unusual. He knew only one other mage who used her birth name beyond her family group. “So what is your birth name?"

"Shuxue."

Seraph frowned. He was not sure he had heard it correctly. "Shu-zu?"

"Shuxue, as in Shuxue of Jinse."

"Oh, that's easy then!" Seraph laughed. "Shuzay of Jinsay."

Combustion stared for a moment and sighed. "I suppose that is better."

Seraph lay back, cushioning the back of his head on folded arms, and grinned. "You know, birth names can be so beautiful, especially because parents choose them with love. It’s a pity most mages are too proud of their mage names to allow even their relatives to use their birth names. May I call you Shuzay or is that being too friendly?"

"You may call me Shuxue," Combustion answered, but the emphasis was lost on Seraph.

"Well, let me reintroduce myself." Seraph extended a hand. "Shuzay, my name is Hugh Thatcher and you may call me Hugh."

---

Combustion stared at Seraph as he sat with his blanket drawn over his knee. The flight mage was finally asleep and from the small smile on his face, it seemed that his dreams would not trouble him tonight. That lightened the Furan’s heart considerably. He had begun to worry that he would never see Seraph smile again.

And yet…why had Seraph offered his birth name? Combustion knew why he’d given his name to the flight mage: he was asked and Furans cared less about their mage names than Sentralians. The only reason he used his birth name as little as he did was because almost every Sentralian could not pronounce it. Since he was not Seraph’s relative, was the reintroduction an offer of friendship?

He shook his head and chuckled. Impossible. Combustion was not the type to need or attract friends. And he was the captor! Seraph, by using his birth name, was merely attempting to leave his bloody past behind and return to the innocence associated with his pre-mage childhood. That the fire mage could understand. Combustion leaned over and touched hand he had shaken a short while before.

“If it helps you, I will use your birth name, Hugh.”