My vision dimmed. The nanghait had shut each of its eyes, leaving me in darkness. But its thoughts continued to stream and pivot around me. I made another grab for the nearest, trying to imagine steel ropes binding it to me. “Likh, something’s about to happen. Tell Kalen that the—”

A sudden shrieking nearly made me let go of my hold altogether, and I scrambled to secure my grip as my own eyes caught sight of the nanghait dropping down from a nearby tree, where it had concealed itself all this time. It landed right in front of a poor Yadoshan. The beast seized the unfortunate man by the waist and lifted him up—then dropped him almost immediately as Kalen’s Fire rune sizzled through its arm, scorching the nanghait’s skin.

The Yadoshans began running in all directions at once, whooping and hollering despite the fear evident in their heartsglass. The nanghait turned to face them, still emitting that high-pitched groaning. It reared up on its hind legs and reached down. Clawed talons dug into the ground, coming up with clumps of soil the size of boulders that it lobbed at the warriors, enraged by their antics.

There was a fizzle of magic beside me as the runic wards dissolved, and Likh extended his arms above his head. The ground shuddered again, and a pillar of earth rose, shifting into an arch above us and taking the brunt of the daeva’s attacks. “Everyone, get underneath here!” Likh yelled, and the smarter of the Yadoshans were quick to follow his lead.

“Likh!” Khalad grasped the asha’s hand, looking horrified. “What are you doing?”

“Tea and Kalen can’t do this on their own. Not with this many people.” Likh shook off his grip and ran without a pause in his weaving. The Shield rune he created was easily fifty feet wide. Gritting his teeth, Likh braced his shoulder against the base of the spell, protecting the people cowering underneath it even as the sod assault hammered fruitlessly against it.

As a young girl, I’d played a game called ice and fire with other children in Knightscross. One designated child would be “ice,” and every person ice tagged would remain frozen until another child, representing fire, could tag them back. This felt very much like that game, with more devastating results if I didn’t tag the daeva minds quickly enough.

I snagged one more wandering thought and anchored another to the bundle I’d already harnessed, but I could feel them tugging away, wanting to break free. In contrast to the creature attacking us, its mind was almost playful. Two more, I thought desperately. Two more minds to secure.