Some of the disciples had left that morning. He had no idea where they went, but Florian could guess that they were working their way into Theo’s good graces. Wincing, Florian tossed and turned for a handful of minutes, listening to the furious whispers of the other disciples before his exhaustion finally overtook him.

When he woke, he found that none of the other disciples were awake. Kayla waited at the foot of his bed, ready to take him to the gaping hole in the wall, where he’d no doubt be forced to repulse the Hellwolves’ attacks again. Wordlessly, Florian got up, dressed himself in the armor that he wore over his robes, looked at Bludgeon, and picked up the spear next to his bed with a sigh. He’d need to get his weapon fixed before long.

“Can you get my mace fixed?” he asked after they exited the building.

Kayla nodded. “I can take it to the smith after tonight, if you remind me.”

“And when can I speak to Master?”

“Not tonight.”

And that was the end of that. Kayla wouldn’t respond to any of his other questions, even when they were suddenly joined by the four disciples that had left the annex in the morning. They looked the same as they always did, wearing the same robes that everyone except Theo wore, but their countenances were more serious than Florian remembered. He supposed it was karma at work; selling yourself into total obedience to escape what amounted to prison only to be forced to fight monsters with nothing but their carcasses to guard you from attack.

They walked without weapons as Kayla did, their only defense the strength of their magic. However, unlike Kayla, they were not even half as proficient in its use. Florian failed to see how they would be of much help, even if each of them managed to slay two or even three of the wolves. By night’s end, most of the Warriors would have slain ten or fifteen of the creatures. He shook his head, admonishing himself; beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Arriving at the wall, Florian could hear the sound of battle already. Fortunately, there were no giants this night, either. Before the fighting could grow to its fever pitch later, Florian opted to make his way to Theo’s section of the wall, where he and his disciples rained two waves of ice javelins down on the monsters. Once again, he was stopped by Mack, but not before Florian saw Theo’s eyes flick to him.

His master knew that Florian was trying to reach him. Suddenly awash in rage, Florian did all he could to stamp it down and return to his post before he skewered the older wizard. It was fortunate that the wolves provided an excellent outlet, and his fighting hardly resembled the controlled attacks he had practiced with Hornbeck. It was a more primal sort of fighting, and he thought that he had earned a nod of approval from Anna, who was flitting around the gate like a woman possessed.

With the magic-fueled enhancement to the tip of his spear, Florian was able to mow the creatures down at a rate unmatched by anyone else, including Theo, who refused to do anything more than send an occasional icicle to save someone from dying a painful death. But even with the conservative use of his Control, Florian could feel his command over the magic slipping as his focus wavered with the coming of a headache.

Forced to readapt to his practiced patterns, Florian stood among the other Warriors in a line of spears, acting almost as if they were medieval infantrymen standing down a horde of cavalry. And it worked for the most part. It was rare that the monsters would be able to leap past the spears and into their ranks. Every now and again, ice would fly past them, dealing with those rare instances. It was a well-oiled machine that Florian joined, the men relying on tactics recently drilled by Hornbeck for the express purpose of defending the ruined gate.

As he was settling in, he heard a scream from behind them. Dread filled his heart: had a wolf gotten past them? Stepping back from the front line to investigate, Florian found that it had not been a wolf, but rather nothing at all. One of the four new additions to the battlefield, however, looked to be out cold, blood streaming from his mouth and eyes. Around him, the other wizards looked shocked. Kayla was crouching over him, and after a moment, she shook her head.

The dread that he had been feeling, the dread that had abated when he found no threat, returned in full force. Now it wasn’t just Wesley that had died from overusing his magic. This wizard he hadn’t known so well, but in better circumstances, he would have still liked to have had a moment to mourn his loss. These were not the circumstances for that; he had a job to do, and so he returned to the front lines.

Lighting his spear with blue magic, Florian pushed back fears of using magic, pushed back the knowledge that he was soon reaching his limit. There was still about an hour to go before the sun would rise and send the wolves back to where they came from. Florian had no intention of failing as he had on the way to Tonbridge. He wouldn’t cower in fear of his own magic, especially not when people he knew – his friends – were fighting for their lives. He wouldn’t push further than he felt he could, but he’d damn well cut it close.

When the sun rose, the Warriors at the gate had suffered not a single death, and only three casualties. It was a remarkable performance, and Florian smiled for it. Anna beside him looked as if she was nursing a similar headache to his own, but they were done with using magic for the time being, and that relief did wonders for the spirit.

When Kayla came to whisk him away, it was with great surprise that he was not led to the annex, but rather a small clearing in between some tents where the dead wizard lay surrounded by a small variety of flowers that Florian recognized from the garden. Theo and all the wizards that fought on the walls were present, including Hornbeck and Anna, and it was with a sudden realization that Florian found himself at a funeral.