Flight Mage Seraph

Friends and Families

Gardner scanned his stall, beaming. His produce—large oranges and pears, plump grapes and gleaming, rosy apples—lay in neat piles before him, luring passing shoppers. The apples, he decided, looked particularly succulent.

A woman called out to him and he turned to return her greeting.

"G'morning!" a familiar voice sang.

That wasn't the woman. As he whirled back, Gardner heard a clatter and glimpsed a blur fleeing his stall.

"What the—"

"He took an apple," the woman said, "Don't worry. He paid."

Indeed there was an extra coin in his wooden plate, but that wasn't the point. Gardner shook a fist in the direction of the now-departed blur.

"Damn you, Seraph! Why can't you greet me like a normal person?"

---

Sara flew as fast as she could over a bar and then through a series of narrow hoops. Turning sharply, she swooped beneath the second bar, before remembering that it was only a metre above the floor. She'd have massive headache if she didn't pull up quickly. Sara jerked herself up just in time and headed for the pole.

That was the most difficult part. She'd have to turn all the way around it to repeat the course in reverse. The pole had been placed in the middle of the room so she wouldn't slam into a wall, but if she overshot her mark or slowed too much while making the tight turn, she'd lose too much time. Sara focused. She grabbed the pole and swung herself around it, ignoring the wrench on her arm. It worked; she was through.

The rest was easy. She sped back under a bar, through the hoops and over another bar. Then she landed right in front of her teacher and waited in anticipation.

"Well done!" Seraph said. "You were faster than I was at your age."

Chinze nodded. "I agree."

The other pupils began to clap, and Sara was pleased to see the visiting light students applauding just as enthusiastically as her classmates.

"Does that mean I'm ready for intermediate level?" she asked Seraph.

"Yes," he said, "You'll begin lessons next week."

"Now let's go and play!" Lamp called. "You're joining us for a tiddlywinks game, aren't you, Hawk?"

"Sure," Sara replied, and she followed the other students outside.

It was good to have friends.

---

Seraph watched the students leave, and he smiled.

"It was good of the Master Mage to introduce the exchange program," he said to Chinze. "Now I see hope for the Academy."

"Mmm," she replied.

"You don't agree?"

"What? Oh, I do," she said absently. "I was thinking about Sara's exam. You didn't tell her that you passed your exam without grabbing that pole."

Seraph blushed. "Well, she passed her exam easily, so I'm sure she would have done well even if she did it properly. It'd be churlish to correct her on that."

"Whatever you say, teacher," she laughed.

"No wonder," a voice grunted. "There is no discipline in this school at all."

Seraph looked at the newcomer with a mixture of trepidation and suspicion.

"Mage Din," he said.

"I was told that you would be here," the sound mage said crisply. "As I was saying, you need to discipline your pupils more. They're bringing the Academy's name into disrepute."

"How so?" Seraph asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Thieving. Just this morning, the Master Mage has received a complaint about a series of them at the stall of a fruiterer, Gardner Haines. If you value your job, you will resolve this quickly."

Chinze happened to be looking at Seraph as Din spoke, and she noticed a strange expression flickering over the flight teacher's face. Not anxiety or anger or determination; something more akin to surprise.

"I will sort it out this afternoon," he said, and he walked away.

"Do that," Din replied. He then narrowed his eyes at Chinze. "Aren't you following him?"

She shrugged. "I'd like to ask you something first. What do hold against Seraph? Did he ruin your home or something?"

"First Mage Combustion and now you. What is it with you foreigners?" Din retorted. "Your kind should concern yourselves with matters in your homeland, not meddle in arguments between two Sentralians."

"We are his friends, so it's our concern," she corrected coldly. "Stop evading, Mage Din."

To her surprise, he averted his eyes. "Seraph is…an obstacle."

"To you?" Chinze replied, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure he never means to be."

"It has nothing to do with whether he means to be or not!" Din exploded. He glared at her and continued in a terrible, rasping voice. "I was meant to lead the Westerners. Me! But when Daylight came, they pushed me aside. For the good of the Westerner's cause, they told me. They promised the Master Mage position instead, only I had to wait for Fade, and that old man won't retire or die! So do you know what Daylight promised me the year before the invasion? That I'd succeed him.

"But of course that was before all those rebellions and before Daylight started looking at Seraph very closely, thinking he could be the saviour. And why not? The boy is young, he's extraordinarily talented and he has the most auspicious name possible. Seraph is the natural successor!"

"That charm—" Chinze began, uncomfortably aware that only Seraph's new scarf now kept it attached to his neck.

"Oh, he won't rise far while his loyalty to Daylight isn't proven, but that will change. The Great Mage's followers will work on that boy until he switches allegiance and the charm falls off, and when it happens, they'll make him the next ruler, whether he wants it or not!"

Chinze shook her head as Din stormed off. Nothing good could come from such bitterness.

---

The two flight mages landed right in front of Gardner's stall, but the first person to catch Chinze's eye was not the fruiterer but Rosemary, from the nearby flower stall. Chinze groaned inwardly.

"Mage Seraph," Rosemary said, batting her long eyelashes, "it's been far too long."

She might as well have stood like a statue, for all the effect that had on him.

"Oh, hello," Seraph said absently. "Is Gardner around?"

Chinze covered a smile as Rosemary tried to hide her disappointment, with little success. Seraph was always like that, missing every hint of a girl's affection until she gave up or, like Chinze, hit him with a broomstick—not that this helped much either. But least he was doing it to Rosemary this time. She was far too vain.

"There you are!" came Gardner's shout.

He popped up from behind the stall. "Made me drop my pears, dropping in suddenly like that." He brushed a handful of dirt-covered fruit and then looked up. "Oh, good afternoon, Chinze. I didn't see you."

She inclined her head. "Good afternoon. How are you and your family?"

"My family is just fine." He turned to Seraph. "See, she knows how to have a decent conversation."

Rosemary, meanwhile, left quietly, her departure unnoticed by all except Chinze.

"I've heard there's been thefts at your stall," Seraph said.

"Oh, is that why you're here?" Gardner exclaimed. "I forgot you're in charge of the flight school now. Seems that not long ago, you were the scamp who grabbed my apples with barely a greeting. But at least you always paid; this group of flight students is even worse! I've lost ten pieces of fruit to them so far.

"I swear I'm cursed with mages. Why couldn't I live in Aidi or Sudenland or Furao, where mages can't do just anything they like?" He sighed. "And flight mages are the worst."

Chinze watched the growing crowd nervously. Seraph had more than enough trouble without an audience; now he'd either make mistakes or retreat into diffidence.

"The worst?" Seraph asked.

"The very worst! Always flying high above the carnage of war, never staying to see what they've done—"

She had to intervene. "Excuse me, Gardner," Chinze said. "It seems that you've been bottling up years of frustration."

The fruiterer froze mid-tirade with his mouth agape and a forefinger raised in remonstration. Slowly, his face turned very red.

"Ah, yes, you're right. I guess I've loaded all the sins of the flight mages onto Seraph."

The flight teacher looked at Gardner thoughtfully. "I have spent most of my life as a flight mage, but I think I understand. You're not entirely correct though. You see, we may fly high, and we may fly far, but sooner or later we must descend. We too have to deal with consequences.

"If there is a problem with mages—especially us flight mages—it's that we either fool ourselves into thinking that we can escape consequences or we remain ignorant of them. I guess that's why it took me a long time to understand that we haven't treated people like you with the respect we show our peers and superiors. We've taken your support for granted, and I'm sorry."

"Well," Gardner said, shifting uncomfortably, "it's not just your generation. My father and my grandmother used to complain about the same things."

Seraph smiled. "Then it mustn't continue any longer. I promise to greet every stallholder properly from now on, and I'll encourage my students to do the same."

"Done!"

Gardner shook the flight teacher's hand, beaming. Chinze also grinned. Now they could return to the original subject.

"So you describe the thefts?" she asked.

The fruiterer looked at her. "Ten pieces of fruit it was. One pear went missing five days ago, but I didn't observe see anything, so I thought I had miscounted. It was only when another pear disappeared that I became suspicious."

"And when did that happen?"

"Three mornings ago, but again I didn't see or hear anything."

"It may have been Bee," Chinze said to Seraph. "I saw him that lunchtime, eating a pear while wearing the smuggest expression I ever saw."

Seraph nodded. "What about the other eight?"

"Well, three apples disappeared yesterday, and that morning I heard children giggling. I turned just in time to see three boys flying away. The trio was back this morning—at least I think they were the same three—stealing five more and toppling a tray of grapes while they were at it."

"Did you see their faces?"

"They were too fast,, but I know they wore flight student uniforms. I think they were about twelve years old and slender. One has straight, brown hair, one is a redhead and the last one has curly, blonde hair."

"Definitely Bee," Chinze said.

"Maybe Kite and Owl too, "Seraph added. His face was like a thundercloud. "I'll ask an aura mage to help me question those three."

She nodded. "Good idea. Most aura mages are good at sensing lies."

"Meanwhile…" Seraph said, and he fished two gold coins out of his purse.

"They didn't cost that much!" the fruiterer protested.

"This is for fruits both stolen and ruined by myself or my students," Seraph disagreed. He pressed the coins into the fruiterer's palm. "I'll be back with the thieves—and their apologies—soon, Gardner. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Chinze echoed.

"Goodbye," Gardner said. "I look forward to your return."

As the mages floated up, Chinze gazed upon the animated crowd gathering around Gardner. The people seemed pleased, even energized by what had just occurred, and so, she reflected, they should. In Sentralia, it was the 'giftless' who suffered most and the mages who blithely burdened their people.

Seraph also noticed the activity below. "Thank you," he said softly.

She shrugged. "I didn't do much."

"No, you did plenty. I had no idea what to say until you found the root of Gardner's anger and calmed him down. I think you would make a great teacher—and I'm not saying that just because I need all the help I can get."

"I know," she laughed.

Right now, she didn't care that Seraph could only offer her friendship on that heartbreaking night two years ago. He acknowledged her, he appreciated her, and he didn't care where she came from. His friendship was plenty.

---

"I wonder if Maeryn thinks of me the same way Gardner did."

"Love shows itself in strange ways, Hugh."

"Huh?"

Chinze turned away from the darkening sky outside the window and back to the librarian. Combustion's face was unreadable, but the piece of paper he'd held under the table twitched. Slowly, as if she were merely grazing the books on the shelves, she moved around for a better look. He was hiding something. What was it?

"Now, about that…coincidence," Combustion said. "I came across an interesting paper during my research. It was written six hundred years ago, but it may explain your strange dreams."

"Really?"

Seraph leaned forward as Chinze leaned back ever so slightly. It looked like a letter…

"It said that prophecy mages tend to develop their powers months or years before their gifts are recognised. The first indication are highly realistic dreams, dreams of the past where every sight, sound and touch is perfectly replicated. They gradually move forward in time and, sometimes, become more abstract until—"

"Wait! Stop!"

Chinze jumped at Seraph's shout. Combustion too was startled, and the letter jerked to a different angle. She had to move again.

"What's wrong?" the fire mage asked in a concerned tone.

"I already have flight and spirit power, and no mage has ever had abilities in three different schools," Seraph said. "It's impossible. It must be."

Combustion laughed and, upon seeing Seraph's panicked expression, Chinze allowed herself a chuckle before concentrating on the letter again. That name…

"I know," the fire mage said. "It's unlikely, but I had to mention it. Prophecy magic would explain your nightmares as well as the dream about Mr. Haines."

"I suppose. Well, um, I really must leave now."

"Did I offend you?"

"Oh, no, you didn't." She heard a chair scraping across the floor. "It's just that I, uh, need to prepare for tomorrow's lessons. I've left all my notes upstairs. Good night."

Chinze squinted.

Dear

"Good night."

Maeryn Thatcher.

"Chinze?"

She gasped and looked up. Seraph was gazing at her with a puzzled expression, while Combustion frowned. He'd caught her out!

"Are you coming too?" Seraph asked.

"I still have something to do here," she said. "I'll go up soon."

"All right," he replied, and he walked out the door.

Combustion waited until Seraph's footsteps had faded away before speaking.

"Well?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't mention anything that suggests he's even special than he already is," Chinze replied. "He hates the attention."

Combustion's scowl deepened. "That wasn't what I meant, and you know it. What will you do about the letter?"

"Depends," she said flippantly.

"On?"

"You said , 'Love shows itself in strange ways'. Is that her love or yours?"

His face coloured.

"Mostly Maeryn's," he finally said. "She wanted her little brother to live peacefully, even if she estranged herself in the process of attaining that peace. Unfortunately, she now can't see how he's doing for herself, so I have become her eyes."

"I see," she sighed, and she gave a smile. "My family also showed their love in a 'strange' way; they exiled me."

He stared. "Exiled…"

"The alternatives were to kill me or to suffer preemptive attacks from rival clans."

"And that is why few Aidi mages have appeared in the past hundred years? Because they were murdered by family or rivals?"

"That's the price of peace."

"Then you can never return."

His face was unbearably sad and she tried to give an encouraging smile.

"At least I know they love me."

Combustion said nothing, merely staring at the table.

She straightened. "Since you and Maeryn are doing this out of love, I won't mention the letter to Seraph, but I do think you should tell him about it yourself. After all, they can't reconcile if he doesn't know her desire. Seraph is a sweet boy, but he's dense."

"I know."

"So if you want him, you'll have to say you love him. "

His head jerked up, and he was still spluttering as Chinze slipped outside.

Good luck, she thought, you'll need it.