Dragon Blood (Hurog #2)(94)

As I struggled inwardly, the Bane struck the warding with sudden immense power - as like its previous struggles as an acorn is to a hundred-year oak. Its energies burned through Oreg's weaving as if he were not an ancient dragon, but his strength slowed it enough that I could catch the fraying edges of the warding and hold it together.

But I could feel the Bane regathering its magic for another attempt. It had burnt out Oreg's magic; he wouldn't be able to work magic for hours. That left only me.

The Bane hit my barrier again. I howled in agony and writhed as I sent magic into the warding until I had none left. I searched frantically for more, because if I did not stop it, the Bane would destroy everything and everyone that I loved.

If I hadn't come, Jade Eyes would never have gotten his hands on the Bane. I could feel the patterns of possibilities woven into the gem, where spells once had bound, and knew that Jade Eyes had been right. Without my tears, the bindings would have held for centuries longer. But magic is made more effective through the use of sympathetic intention and symbolism; doors are easier to break open with magic than walls because doors are meant to open and walls to stand firm. The tears and blood of the guardian of dragons made a sharp knife to cut through spells imprisoning dragons.

Haverness had brought his mage and I sucked him dry of power. He didn't fight me, but his magic was a drop compared to Oreg's ocean and neither was adequate, so I cast my net further afield.

Nothing.

I screamed a second time, not just from pain, but from effort and frustration. My hold slipped and I felt the Bane's triumph.

"At last to be free, to burn and consume until there is nothing left."

Then I felt it. Hurog. Over five hundred miles away, the magic of Hurog heard my call and came to me when I couldn't reach it. A thin, cool stream of power spilled over the warding, taking the governance of the spell gently from my hands. Hurog touched me and read my desire to neutralize the Bane.

The ward dissolved, replaced by Hurog magic that engulfed the Bane and cleaned it of taint and anger. Dragon magic absorbed the Bane and left me except for a silk-fine thread, connecting me to my home.

A pea-sized stone the color of obsidian glass fell out of the staff to land on a flattish rock. Almost absently I crushed it with the butt-end of the staff and the little stone dissolved into powder, drifting away when a stray breeze swept through the clearing.

I cleared my throat and looked up to meet Kellen's grim face.

"I'm sorry, sire," I said to him. "It seems the Bane was more dangerous than I thought." Letting the staff slip through my grip, I knelt before him and bowed my head. "Let all here bear witness that the dragons of Hurog do follow Kellen Tallven, High King of the Five Kingdoms."

The world tilted oddly and someone cried out; I think it was my brother.

"Idiot," muttered Oreg to me as he and Kellen hauled me to my feet. "Have you forgotten what I've told you about destroying magical items? You're lucky you didn't kill everyone here when you broke the gem."

Garranon was somehow there, stitching up my belly with thread and needle. "I thought you had this stopped," he said.

I was puzzled for a minute at the abrupt shift of scene, then realized somewhat muzzily that I must have passed out, because I was sitting, braced against a tree, and the camp was lit with morning sun instead of blue gemstone.

"Still prisoners?" I asked.

"No," said Tisala acidly. "You proved to everyone's satisfaction that you had no intention of keeping the Bane's power for yourself. Kellen declared you a hero, and, after the impressive fire and spark show you put on, no one decided to argue with him. Next time, I'd appreciate it if you'd only face one deadly foe at a time. A paranoid king or two, evil sorcerers, an ancient evil artifact - fine. But not all at once. It makes it hard to defend you."

I realized that the slender tree that kept me upright was Tisala, herself. It was her knee that pressed so uncomfortably against a bruise on my back, but I was too tired to shift away. It was worth the small hurt to know that she was safe. Garranon distracted me from the bruise when he took another stitch.

"And you didn't even kill anyone," said Oreg, then added, "at least none of our allies." I saw that he was lying next to me with his eyes shut tight against the light.

"Are you all right, Oreg?"

"Damn it, quit wiggling," snapped Garranon. "Unless you want a few more pinholes to add to your wounds."

"Just a headache," said Oreg when Garranon had finished speaking. "Axiel tells me I'll feel like living again in a week or so - about the same time I'll have enough magic to light a candle. Tosten's in one of the tents with Axiel, who has a nasty cut on his thigh that someone stitched up."

"My father," supplied Tisala from behind me. "He also sewed up Tosten's back. He - my father, not Tosten - says both Axiel and Tosten will mend. He says you are suffering from blood loss, as well as whatever damage your battle with the Bane did, but if you haven't died yet, you are unlikely to at this point. Unless, of course, one of your wounds gets infected." It didn't sound as if it would bother her.

"Speaking of death," said Oreg, "have I mentioned that I'm unhappy with you? Destroying something as powerful as the Bane's gemstone could have left a new valley where these mountains stand."

Garranon's steady progress across my sore abdomen paused and then resumed.