The Everburn Mage

17. As Rain Falls

The taste of failure; he was no stranger to it. That foul flavor was hard to erase.

Oddly enough, his past experiences served to help him not at all to numb his frustration, his humiliation. Trevor nearly tripped over his pair of soggy feet, stuttering over unstabled, grimy soil. 

How was he expected to face his men, those who had placed their trust in him? Those who craved to slit Esteras' throats and counted on him to materialize their grand ambitions? If a leader couldn't even bring proper results then what good were they?

For a time, these thoughts drizzled his brain much like the rain plopping atop his scalp. Over the course of his miserable and wet trek, however, he longed for nothing more than to escape the putrid night storm. 

He rendezvoused with his men, or at least, those that survived the fire sorcerer's ruthless ambush, at the northern sector of the district in a compact pocket of earth surrounded by soaked, metal structures. When he arrived he could sense their disappointment jetting at him without even having to look them in the eyes. 

Then again, he wasn't too concerned. So what if one of their bases were compromised? So what if their forces had been crippled? What did this change? Not a thing. The heart of Esteras would turn silver regardless.

Uttering a curse, Trevor plumped his behind onto a wooden crate and dropped his arms, still partially covered with patches of ice, onto his trembling knees. He'd expended nearly every ounce of essence in his body. 

He amazed himself at how he hadn't fainted yet. All of his remaining men, shivering shadows trapping him in a ring, chose not to speak. More than likely afraid to voice their concerns to a leader who looked ready to pounce at any living creature out of anger. Little did they know he'd barely have the strength to form a proper scowl, much less move.

This didn't stop one brave soul from approaching him, though. A man by the name of Harrow Felt. His second in command. It was always easy to discern him from the crowd courtesy of the distinguished scar running across his golden skin and over a squinted eye like a blackened trench. 

"Sir," he began. "I've rounded up everyone who could still move. The others, well, they're a lost cause."

"Noble sacrifices to the greater picture. I shall remember them well when the promised day comes," Trevor mumbled. "And what of the manite crystals?"

"Already taken care of." Harrow motioned to a pair of men a short distance behind him. In their hands, they both carried a black, leather pouch that emitted a bright, cerulean glow out of their opened mouths. "Everything's secure, don't you worry."

"Very good."

"However, the Esteran sorcerers are here. I highly urge that we vacate this place. Otherwise, we will assuredly get caught."

Trevor was no fool. He was barely a match for a single sorcerer. They'd be quickly annihilated if they were to face an entire squadron of the devils. A gurgling groan collapsed through his teeth as he slowly rose to his feet. "Any word from . . ." Harrow rushed to his aid, managing to catch him before he plummeted to the mud. "That sorcerer . . ." he continued. "Has he jumped ship?"

"We haven't spoken since before this mess started. Though, if he's got any brains, he wouldn't dare show himself now. Not after everything that's happened. If he truly is still on our side I'm sure he'll try to contact us soon. For now, my top priority is to get you out of here."

"R- Right, let's move."

A sudden spark of energy singed his spine. He'd felt it before. A grief-stricken expression covering his face, Trevor pushed away from Harrow and started looking for the source of electrifying essence.