Flight Mage Seraph

Adversaries

Seraph and Combustion solemnly sat inside the latter's office. Normally, the flight mage provided a pleasant diversion from Combustion's duties—as long as he didn't eat his lunch over the library's precious books and scrolls—but this time, his visit brought only gloom.

The fire mage eyed Seraph's untouched lunch and then the half-filled glass that the Sentralian had placed on the desk. No doubt the crimson liquid inside had something to do with his depression.

"Blood?" Combustion asked.

Seraph nodded.

"That was in your room?"

Another nod.

"I see." Combustion considered his words as he slowly peeled an orange. "You know, your enemies will think they're succeeding if you never take your meals in the hall.. You won't last the term at this rate."

A grunt was Seraph's only reply. He was definitely not in the mood to talk.

Combustion sighed. "Yes, I don't eat there either, but I have too much to do. Besides, I'm not their target."

"It's not just me or my students," Seraph said, crossing his arms. "Blood-filled glasses were found in the rooms of all East-school teachers, and Din is refusing to take this—or anything else—seriously. He thinks this is just another prank."

"Or," Combustion said, "he is deliberately ignoring the problem. I've tried to contact the Master Mage about that bird's corpse, but Din told me that he's too ill to meet anyone, or even read a note from me!"

"The Master Mage is that weak?"

"Unlikely. Unless he has a severe bout of flu—" He shook his head and flung the peels off the desk. "This reeks. I will try to bring this to Truth's attention. In the meantime, find a new ally among the West-school mages, preferably a Sentralian one with some standing."

"What about Shadow?"

Combustion paused in the act of shoving his chair back and looked at the flight mage.

"Your spirit-magic teacher? Well, if you can forgive the spirit mages for their wartime role…"

Seraph stiffened. He clearly hadn't thought of that.

"…I believe they could be good allies," the fire mage added hurriedly. "Shadow and many other spirit mages come from of a moderate faction that's relatively tolerant of the Easterners. Also, Shadow is close to Fade; he'll have better access to the Master Mage than I."

Seraph simply stared at the table. Just when Combustion began to wonder whether he'd turned into a statue, the flight mage stirred and finally picked up his sandwich.

"You're right," he said slowly. "It isn't as if the flight mages performed any more nobly during the conflict. Maybe I should visit the hall, at least so I could talk to him more frequently."

"Good," Combustion said, but for some reason, his heart sank.

"I hope you don't mind if I continue to see you, though. It's selfish of me, I know, but I gain strength from you every time we meet."

"You…do?"

Combustion felt a blush creeping into his cheeks. Nobody had ever complimented him this way before. From his earliest days, everyone he knew had marveled at his skills, or his industrious nature, but few—apart from the ever-nosy Cat—actually liked to be near him. And, now that he thought about it, he enjoyed every moment he had Seraph to himself.

"It's as if you were the warm, life-giving sun," Seraph continued. He laughed. "Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if your true mage name is Sun."

The fire mage shook his head, exasperated again by Seraph's ignorance.

"I hope not," he replied, "and you'd best not say anything like that again. Sentralia has had more than enough political intrigue since the Westerners were given new mage names."

"I've noticed no difference."

Combustion heard the patter of footsteps outside the door. He ignored them, hoping that the library patrons would not require any assistance just yet.

"That's because some who received unpromising names are keeping it to themselves. Rumours abound though, and the race to succeed the Master Mage, and perhaps even the Great Mage, is now wide open. Din, for example—"

Suddenly, the door crashed open. Both men jumped.

"Mage Seraph!" Rosalie cried. She charged into the room and then, upon seeing Combustion, hastily retreated.

"They're attacking the flight school!" Sara said. "Please stop—oh, excuse us, Shoo-shoo."

Seraph looked befuddled. "What? Who?"

"Half the sound school. They're all outside," Rosalie replied. She peered nervously at the fire mage from her shelter, behind the doorway.

Combustion ignored the girl, peering instead beyond the doorway and library, through an open window and into the clear, blue sky. As he did so, a flash of light tinged the sky. He frowned.

"I knew this would happen," he muttered. In a louder voice, he said, "I'll deal with this. In the meantime, you should stay here, where it's safe."

"I'm coming too!" Seraph said.

And before Combustion could react, the flight mage flew out the window with him.

---

"HUGH! Put me down!"

Combustion's shriek startled Seraph and he almost dropped his passenger.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't know you feared heights." Carefully, he manoeuvred the squirming fire mage to a less perilous position. "You seemed so calm back on Mount Treachery."

"Th-that was because I had to choose between burial and a potential—look! I knew it wasn't just the sound and flight schools!"

Seraph looked down and gasped. Indeed, it seemed that half the Academy had converged in the square, in front of the hall. Student fought against student, teacher against teacher, even creation against creation. On one side of the melee, the ground rumbled and shook from the spells of reckless earth mages, while in the air, ghosts swooped to attack the unwary and helpless. With almost equal numbers on each side, it was unclear which group had the advantage.

"Where are your students?" Combustion asked.

Seraph was already scanning for them. Most of his pupils were still unable to fly with any skill, so they should have remained on the ground. Only two could have remained aloft—

"Chinze!" Seraph cried. "Kite!"

The pair were battling heroically against the spirits, but they were bloodied, bruised and in retreat. Some of the ghosts were beginning to surround them and Seraph knew that it was only a matter of time before they fell to their deaths.

"You said that spirit mages were moderate," he yelled at Combustion.

"I know. This is senseless!" the fire mage raged, temporarily forgetting his phobia. "Fly closer, Hugh, and I'll put a stop to this."

Seraph tried to calm himself as he obeyed. The scene before him looked too much like the final battle of the Mage War, the one that massacred the flight mages.

And this battle's casualties might well include Combustion and Seraph. Almost as one, each spirit turned and rushed towards the flight mage. Combustion called for a retreat, but burdened with the fire mage, Seraph knew he had no chance of outpacing their attackers. He had no time to hide either.

"They're almost on top of us!" Combustion yelled, his voice rising with panic. "Do something!"

Seraph peered into the approaching mass.

"I think Chinze and Kite have escaped. Burn the ghosts."

"What?" the fire mage said incredulously. "They're ghosts."

Seraph spoke as calmly as he could. "I have a plan. Something similar worked when Wyvern's ghost attacked me."

He didn't see the need to say just how little his plan and his encounter with Wyvern had in common, and fortunately, Combustion was too desperate to question him further.

A fiery disc exploded in front of the pair, rapidly engulfing the spirits. The ghosts shrieked and writhed, and Seraph, shocked as he was by the sudden heat and its effect on their opponents, knew it was time to act. He had to recover before they did. He couldn't let his sympathy get in the way. Quickly, he extended tendrils of compulsion to each spirit and squeezed.

It proved surprisingly easy. Terror had so weakened the spirits' hold on the living realm that Seraph squeezed them out with little trouble. The very simplicity left a bitter taste in his mouth, though.

"Wh-what did you do?" Combustion asked, awed.

"Every ghost was once alive," Seraph said slowly. "They remember the things that had once posed a danger to them and they easily forget—at least temporarily—that these hazards can no longer harm them. When faced with fire, they'll react instinctively, with terror. I'm not sure of this, but I think their fear makes them easier to repel and more difficult for spirit mages to control. Still, I don't want to make them feel that again."

"Eh?"

In a way, Seraph thought, Combustion was much like the spirit mages. No appreciation of a ghost’s feelings.

"Never mind. It seems your firestorm has stopped the fighting."

"Seraph! What is the meaning of this?"

Din was pushing his way to the front of the crowd, followed by Fray and two burly men. Seraph landed right in front of them and gently deposited Combustion, who fell to his knees in relief.

"I could ask the same of you," the flight mage said coolly. "My students told me that half your school was attacking them."

Din pointed to one corner of the square, where several pupils huddled under a tree. "It was your students who started this fight," he shouted. "I see that you've also kidnapped our librarian and used his powers against us. Look at what you did to the spirit students!"

Seraph gasped. Many of the spirit pupils were in obvious pain, with several kneeling and clutching their heads. He hadn't realised that having ghosts ripped from one's control would actually hurt.

The sound mage's lips twisted into a cruel, smug smile. "That's right, troublemaker. I should dismiss you this instant—"

"And replace me with what?" Seraph demanded. "A bird machine too slow and clumsy to save a falling mage? You have a nerve, threatening my pupils' safety this way."

Din gaped at the steely accusation and turned a bright shade of red. "How…how dare you—"

"I dare!" Seraph's voice rang out like a thunderclap. " You have been responsible for the entire Academy while the Master Mage is ill, and look at what's happened under your watch! I spent ten years as a student here. In all that time, I have never witnessed such enmity between mage schools."

This time, Din was unable to reply. Seraph turned to the remaining crowd.

"Have you all forgotten Caleb's message? The angels want us to cooperate and rebuild, not turn the Academy to rubble. If we fight and denigrate each other, how can ordinary Sentralians, who rely on us for leadership, learn to get along with each other?!"

"Excuse me, Mage Seraph."

Everybody turned to the newcomer.

"Master Mage Fade," Din gasped.

Seraph beheld a thin man, flanked by Shadow and also by attendants who seemed concerned more with the Master Mage's fragility than with intimidating onlookers. Their concern was well justified. Pallid and stooped, Fade's full head of white hair framed a heavily lined face worn by years of hardship and sorrow. The thick, grey robes that almost hid his thin frame heightened this impression.

Slowly, he looked all around him. Seraph knew what Fade was taking in: wounded students and teachers, new scorch marks on the walls nearest the square, cracks in the pavement and at least three broken windows. The Master Mage's eyes took on a steeliness Seraph had rarely seen in anyone before—and Shadow did not look happy either.

Seraph hurriedly bowed. "Master Mage Fade and Mage Shadow…I…I'm sorry about your pupils. I didn't quite think through my actions."

"We saw the end of this skirmish," Shadow replied. "Suffice to say that I am most displeased that most of my pupils saw fit to gang up against two of yours. Without your intervention, they would certainly have perished. But I must add," he said, grinning, "you are a most remarkable student! I haven't even begun to teach you that method!"

"What happened to the Furan?" Fade suddenly asked.

Startled, Seraph looked down. Combustion knelt at his feet, pale and trembling, eyes staring vacantly into the distance. The flight mage suddenly realised that the shock and terror of the past several minutes had caught up with him—and at the worst possible time. No wonder Din had accused Seraph of kidnapping him!

"Shuxue?" the flight mage said gently.

Combustion jerked his head up, but nothing coherent came from his lips.

Din smiled grimly. "I will begin an investigation right away, Master Mage."

"No," Fade said. "Keeping the peace is one of my duties, and it is therefore my responsibility to investigate this awful lapse. Everyone will leave this area immediately. I want every able person to bring the injured to the infirmary, and no one is to discuss this event unless it is in my presence. Mage Seraph?"

Seraph winced. "Y-yes, Master Mage?"

"Our meeting has been long delayed. I would like you to see me tonight."

"As you wish."

Fade turned and then paused, looking back.

"By the way, while you were fighting the spirits, did your charm tighten or hamper you in any way?"

"No, Master Mage."

In fact, he hadn't felt even slightly nauseous since he left the library.

Fade nodded. "Then I assume you were merely doing the will of the Great Mage and His Holiness Caleb. Din, you will come with me."

The sound mage grimaced. "Yes, Master Mage."

Seraph stared as Din departed, shuffling after Fade like a cowed dog. What had the old man just done to the sound mage?