Flight Mage Seraph

Teacher

Combustion quickly sorted the books on the shelves. Classes would begin the next day, and soon students would flood the library with their assignments. Knowing this, he wanted the library as stocked and orderly as possible. He had a few days left—or perhaps none.

From the opposite side of a shelf came the piping voices of children.

“Wow! I’ve never seen so many books.”

“It’s great, isn’t it? Shoo-shoo has been working hard trying to get this place in order.”

He rolled his eyes. Soon, all of Sara’s friends will be calling him that.

“Shoo-shoo?” a boy asked. “Oh, you mean the librarian with the funny-coloured skin?”

“I beg your pardon, Wil!” a woman’s voice came.

“Uh, I’m not saying that you are funny-looking too!”

Curious, Combustion peeked through a gap between the books. On the other side were a trio of children aged between ten and thirteen and an older, Aidi girl. All wore the azure-and-white uniform of flight students.

“I suppose this place is pretty good,” the second boy said, “but that won’t matter if we have to have Mage Seraph for a teacher.”

Sara shook her head. “He’s really quite nice, Gair. I know. I had to travel with him and he was never mean to me or to anyone else.”

“Ridiculous! Do you know how many people he killed? Mage Fray said it was hundreds, and she’s a history teacher, so she must be right.”

“He said sorry!”

Combustion sighed. He would have to intercede before he had a screaming match in the middle of the library—and before Gair turned most of the pupils against Seraph.

“I know Seraph too,” the Aidi girl said, “and he is no cold-blooded murderer.”

Gair snorted. “What do you know? You’re just a foreign student with no idea of Sentralian ways.”

Combustion chose this moment to step in front of the children.

“If you won’t pay any attention to reason,” he said to Gair, “then absorb this.”

The fireball he created was neither big nor very hot, since he didn’t want to scorch the walls and books, but it needn’t be. Combustion knew from experience that any fire larger than a torch flame would frighten most people, and children weren’t difficult to scare. Gair and Wil backed into the wall, their eyes wide and their faces white with terror, while the Aidi girl flinched. Only Sara watched the display calmly.

“Now,” he continued, extinguishing the flame, “you will listen to my reasoning. I too have accompanied the Mage Seraph, and I have found him to be a sincere man who was coerced into killing innocent people. He is sorry, he won’t do that again, and he wants to help all of you become good mages. You will help him do that by being respectful towards him…or else.”

The boys nodded furiously.

“Good.” Combustion walked away, hiding a triumphant smile. “Don’t forget to tell your other classmates, children.”

---

"Sir, I have been here for three days and you are giving me instructions just one day before class begins?"

Din ignored Seraph's question.

"You are to take all levels of flight magic," he said in a clipped voice. He pointed to the side of his enormous desk. "Your books are over here. Dismissed!"

Annoyed, Seraph lifted the books and turned.

"Oh, Seraph?"

"Sir?"

Seraph matched Din's hostile stare with a steady gaze. He refused to be intimidated by him.

The sound mage smiled coldly. "Teaching is very difficult for a novice teacher, even one with years of outside experience. I certainly do not expect a boy of nineteen—and with a poor academic record—to last long, so there is no shame in admitting defeat now. I'm sure that the other Eastern mages would happily share their jail cell with you and I can even find a replacement flight teacher."

Seraph didn't bother to reply as he left the office. If he wished to defy Din's expectations, he could not waste time in argument.

He strode down the hallway and turned left into the arched walkway leading towards the library. Clearly visible from the walkway was a flying machine, sitting at the centre of the quadrangle. Now he understood what Din meant; the sound mage wanted to replace Seraph with a pilot.

Well, he thought, Combustion had warned him about Din. Apparently, the sound mage hated all mages in the Eastern schools (even those born in West Sentralia) and loathed Seraph in particular. The flight mage had no idea why and, he decided, he had larger concerns right now.

He resumed his walk, his thoughts turning to his students. There were thirty, aged seven to seventeen. Half of them were Westerners and most were new to the Academy. While the class size was normal, there were far too many new pupils. Not only had the invasion killed two thirds of the teachers, all but two of the previous year's flight students had also lost their lives. His heart still burned whenever he thought of the Academy Massacre—

The band tightened ever so slightly and Seraph collapsed onto a bench, feeling nauseated. That cursed charm is still too sensitive, he thought. Perhaps he should speak to Combustion about it.

"Seraph?"

He looked up with surprise and great relief. An Aidi girl was gazing down at him with concern, while a much younger girl attempted to hide behind her.

Seraph smiled at the older student. "Chinze! You've grown taller and darker since I left."

"Taller, yes," she laughed, "but my skin is always this dark. That's just your imagination." She raised one of her expressive eyebrows. "And am I prettier?"

He squinted.

"I guess so. How are pretty, Aidi girls supposed to look like?" He laughed as he dodged a playful slap from Chinze. "Hey, I really don't know! And who is the little girl?"

"Uh, Swan. She's only other student to survive the Massacre. She entered the Academy the year after you left, so I doubt you've met her. Say hello to your new flight teacher, Rosalie."

The girl buried her face into Chinze's dress. The Aidi girl smiled apologetically.

"Rosalie?" Seraph asked. "I thought you're the only one who uses her birth name here."

"Rosalie was traumatized by what happened," she said. "Without my help, she would've perished, and now she refuses to acknowledge her mage name. She wants to avoid the Westerners' attention."

"I…see. What about you?" he asked softly.

Chinze shrugged. "Well, someone has to be strong, what with a whole lot of new students and an inexperienced teacher." She grinned. "What I'm saying is, I'll aid you any way I can, so if you ever need my help, don't be too shy to ask!"

She was only seventeen, but Seraph had always respected her toughness and common sense. He'd seen much evidence of both in their six years as classmates, and he knew that she would be a good role model for his other students.

"Thank you. I won't."

They smiled at each other and then she said, "So, are you on your way to meet your charges?"

Seraph looked at her blankly. Surely, his lessons would begin the next day.

"It's Naming Day, you know, when all the new students get their mage names?"

"Oh."

She laughed at his lack of enthusiasm, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Come now. You may not care for it, but you have plenty of new pupils and except for Sara Mageborn, I doubt that you've met them. Now's the time to get to know them. If it helps, most of the Western mages are getting new mage names too. Don't you want to see who gets what?"

Seraph wasn't actually interested, but he knew Chinze was right. He should meet his students. Reluctantly, he nodded.

Chinze and Rosalie led him out of the building and into a smaller one that housed the prophecy mages and students. It was, he noted, still filled with signs of the Academy Massacre. Faint bloodstains marked the walls and furniture, some doors had gouges or dents and a few shards of glass remained on the floor.

The corridors were packed with students patiently waiting outside the prophecy mages' rooms. Every so often, one child would emerge—thrilled over the name the mage had given her, or upset, or simply bemused—and the next in line would enter. Seraph remembered how he had felt: elated at first, then bemused by the attention his name brought him and then crushed by the expectations heaped upon him. The name 'Seraph' just seemed to promise too much.

Several adult mages were waiting with the children and they sneered as he passed. Some pupils, who he assumed to be Western as well, also gazed at him with undisguised hostility, but even those he knew to be Eastern appeared contemptuous.

Seraph had really alienated both sides.

He was therefore surprised when they reached his students, who clustered at the end of a corridor. Their expressions were filled with anxiety, of course, but also respect and perhaps some sympathy. Only one or two glared at him. He turned to Chinze, seeking an explanation, but she only winked.

"Good morning, Teacher," they chorused.

"Um, hello."

Seraph had spent hours planning what he would say to his students, but now he felt lost. He'd expected a very different situation.

Fortunately, they resolved his dilemma for him. Before he knew it, several were firing questions about Naming Day.

"Teacher, I need to know, why do we get our names from prophecy mages?"

"Yeah. Why not from other mages?"

"Is a mage name really that important?"

"Yes, it is," Seraph finally managed to answer. "A mage name is important because it's predictive; prophecy mages give names based what they see in the students' futures. In fact, it means so much that most of us never use their birth name again."

"While some reject it and keep our birth name," Chinze muttered.

"Chinze!" he hissed.

Both of them disliked their mage names—despite her insatiable curiosity on each Naming Day—but he knew the children were already nervous. He didn't want to increase their anxiety.

It was too late. The other students stared at her and then one child hesitantly raised her hand.

"Teacher, was there something wrong with the Westerners' mage names? Is that why they're all new ones?"

"Most or all of the prophecy mages are Easterners," Seraph replied. "Without them, Westerners had to base their predictions on the present. For example, a gifted youngster would gain a good mage name because he's expected to be powerful when he's older. That's usually a correct assumption, but he might fall behind because of illness or plain laziness. In addition, a Western mage name rarely predicts a future leader."

She beamed. "I see! They're trying to find out which of them will be the next Great Mage!"

"Uh, perhaps."

She had smiled with such satisfaction that Seraph hesitated to tell her that the next Great Mage could be an Easterner. At least he hoped so.

"S-Seraph?"

He looked down and saw another welcome and familiar face.

"Yes, Sara?" he smiled.

She was still looking at Chinze. "How bad can a mage name be?"

Seraph suppressed a sigh. "Chinze received the name of an ugly bird," he said carefully, "but most bird names are good. They indicate that the mage will learn to fly well. 'Dragon' and 'Wyvern' are even better and angel names are…special."

Seraph was unsure that they were fortunate for the very few who received them.

"But what are the bad names?"

He rolled his eyes. If only Chinze had kept silent.

"There is almost no bad name. Wind-blown objects like Seeds are regarded as the worst, but even then, I've heard of only one mage who had refused her mage name. Actually, the worst thing a prophecy mage can do is return your birth name."

"Because that means you won't be a good mage?" a boy asked.

"Yes."

"But could we keep our birth name if we really want to?" Sara insisted. "Does everybody have to know our mage names?"

Seraph ground his teeth. "Yes and no. If you truly dislike your mage name, just tell me that you prefer to keep your birth name. Only you and the prophecy mage need to know. I'm sure you will gain a fine name though, like…uh…"

What name would raise her hopes without being unrealistically optimistic?

"Sparrow," Chinze said.

He shook his head. Somehow, that did not fit Sara. He could almost see another bird within Sara, not in the girl she was that day, but in the woman she would become.

"I think…Hawk."

"And what is Chinze's?" the boy asked.

Seraph and Chinze looked at each other.

"None of your business, Wil," she said.

---

"I've got a great mage name! And guess what. Seraph was right! It is Hawk—and that's…"

Combustion wished that Sara would stop, but so intent was she on relating her morning that she didn't notice, or care, that she was in the library. At least she and Seraph were the only visitors at the moment.

"…much better than Bee, which is the name Gair got. He hates it, but he's keeping it. I've heard that Mage Din refused his new name though…"

Standing behind Sara, Seraph made no attempt to silence her. He simply mouthed a brief thanks to the fire mage.

Combustion smiled. If Seraph knew what he did to persuade the flight students to accept him, the flight mage would probably be lecturing him instead.

"…What's your new mage name?"

As suddenly as Sara had started, she stopped. Combustion pulled himself out of his reverie, for it was clear that she expected a response.

"Hawk, I did not go to a prophecy mage today."

Her mouth dropped open. "What?! Every other Western mage went to get new names. They all want—"

"Predictive names, " he sniffed. "Yes, I know, but Sentralians would not allow a foreigner to reach a higher position than mine, so why should I bother? Besides, Master Mage Fade did not go either. He came here to pass a message to you instead, Hugh."

Seraph swallowed. "The Master Mage? The new head of the Academy?"

"You're not in trouble," Combustion smiled. "He merely wants you to attend his spirit classes—the advanced ones."

But he remained pale. "I have heard…is he the one who…"

Ignoring the stammering, Combustion held out a piece of paper. "Here is your schedule. You will be able to fit these classes between your teaching duties, so I advise you to attend them."

The flight mage searched his face, but Combustion resolutely kept it expressionless, as if he was merely waiting for Seraph's assent. He would not upset Seraph by telling him too much! Given the Easterner's strong spirit magic, it was too dangerous to discourage him from the training needed to control it—

Why was Seraph still staring at him?

In the end, the flight mage shrugged.

"I'll be there," he said, taking the piece of paper, "and thanks again. I will repay you someday!"

---

Some time later, Seraph returned to his room. Sara quietly read nearby and, with no other visitors in the library, Combustion's thoughts wandered from his task.

Seraph was in trouble, he knew. Despite his early success, Din would not give up. The sound mage's attacks would only become increasingly vicious as time passed. That was why Seraph needed the support of a powerful person within the Academy. Master Mage Fade could be that man, but only if those two could put aside their mutual distrust. In addition, Fade is very old! What if his frailty forces him to hand his position to Din? Would Seraph have any chance then?

"May I borrow this, Shoo-shoo?"

"Sorry? Oh, yes you may, Sara." He wrote a note in his logbook. "That is due in one month."

"All right. And thanks for helping."

"I'm always willing to help a friend," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

Sara grinned. "I knew you were friends."

Combustion froze. Had he just referred to Seraph as his friend?

"You never seemed like much of a captor," she continued, oblivious to his shock. "'Bye."

Combustion barely noticed her leave. He could not believe it. He hadn't called anybody a friend since he came to Sentralia, not even Cat or Flame. So what made Seraph different?