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Vaneshta and Lidishta stormed toward Tenar like tigers, faces twisted in matching fury.

Iryana worked on catching her breath, chest heaving, and glanced around. Everyone else was facing the metal-badger.

Mezhimar was firing arrows, Pepha dancing around with her knives, and Shahn worked with Vabihn to protect him with his forged shield while Vabihn hacked at the badger with his great axe.

“Take out your anger on the badger,” Iryana urged, pulling Pyetar toward it.

They ran toward the fight as Tenar started screaming behind them. Iryana had diverted to grab the bow she’d dropped earlier while Pyetar formed his spear and joined Shahn and Vabihn. The monster kept them on their toes, trying to ram them with the razor-sharp spikes.

“We don’t need your forgings!” Pyetar shouted at her over his shoulder, sliding and thrusting his spear.

“Tell me if you change your mind!” She shot off another two arrows toward what little they could see of the creature’s neck and then waited out another quake.

Then more arrows flew over her shoulder, and Misha joined her.

Pepha shouted something that Iryana couldn’t catch over a sudden gust of wind and then dove under the badger, Shahn right beside her.

She dug her knives into the softer underbelly, Shahn covering them with his shield and then shoving up as hard as he could to drive those knives further in while still protecting them from the stomping feet.

The badger squealed and reared up, falling to the side as Vabihn tackled its chest. All three of the archers sent arrows flying for the exposed weak spots. Pyetar lunged with his spear. Finally, the badger collapsed.

She hadn’t needed her forgings.

Iryana pulled off her fur-lined cap, tilting her head back as she sucked in air.

They had done it.

“Guys!” Vaneshta shouted urgently.

Iryana turned to find her staring down into the pit.

Then she broke into a run toward them, glancing at the broken body of Tenar on the ground, wheezing and wincing in pain.

She slowed herself by grabbing Vaneshta’s shoulder and looked into the massive hole in the ground. A clear form was visible in the magic. It wasn’t deformed like the one the Steelsworn had made. This nemak looked whole beneath the undulating purple-red magic that rose from deeper in the earth and swirled around the great avian form.

“How do we stop it?” Iryana cried, holding her hands out like Tenar had, like she had pulled magic out of the wells to forge with her own. She could feel the force of the magic, but it was slippery.

She forced her focus to latch onto the magic like claws, and then she shoved. Searing pain shot through her and her stomach heaved, but she kept pushing at the fire-metal magic, trying to force it into the ground.

“Stop, Iryana!” Pyetar cried, grabbing her hands.

The pain dropped her to her knees, but they couldn’t just give up and let the nemak go. The others didn’t understand how close Noshtiz was to winning the war.

Lidishta copied Iryana, reaching for the magic. It seemed to listen better to her.

“Leave this to me, Iri,” Lidishta ordered, grunting with effort. Vaneshta stood at her back, arms wrapped around her middle to provide support.

Iryana let herself collapse against Pyetar, spasming as her magic revolted. The pain was everywhere, crashing over her again and again. His hands moved over her frantically, as if he could soothe her magic through her skin.

“We’re here,” Hadima said, strained.

Iryana cracked an eye open.

“That was a nice shot, Mishi,” she groaned as Hadima pulled a vial out of her coat.

“Thanks.” But Misha just watched her with wide, worried eyes.

Pyetar helped Iryana sit up enough for Hadima to pour the vial down her throat. It tingled from traces of water magic.