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.