Free The Source of Magic by Piers Anthony Page A

lord of the wilderness, the numbers and organization and weapons of men and centaurs made them more formidable than most dragons preferred. Some men, like the King, had magic that could finish any dragon. Normally people and dragons left each other alone.
    That anonymous enemy—could he have sent the dragon? Just a little nudge in the dragon’s small, hot brain—and the result would seem like a normal wilderness accident. Bink remembered the King’s analysis: that his enemy’s magic was very like his own. Not identical, of course. But similar. Therefore insidious.
    Then his eyes spotted a little mound of dirt, seemingly freshly deposited. The magic mole here? All Xanth must be infested with the creatures!
    Both Crombie and Chester had fighting hearts. But Bink ultimately depended on his secret talent. The trouble was, that protection did not necessarily extend to his two friends. Only by joining the fray directly could Bink hope to help them, for then his talent might have to save them all to save him. He felt guilty about this, knowing that his courage was false; they could die while he was charmed. Yet he could not even tell them about this. There was a lot of this kind of magic in Xanth; it was as if magic liked to clothe itself in superfluous mystery, by that means enhancing itself in the manner of a pretty woman.
    At any rate, they were caught in a level clearing: the dragon’s ideal hunting ground. There were no large trees to provide either shelter or escape, and no local magic they could draw on fast enough. The dragon was charging, a shaft of fire jetting from its mouth. One good scorch from that flame would be enough to roast a man entire. Dragons found roasted man very tasty, it was widely rumored.
    Chester’s bow was in his hands, an arrow nocked. He was well provisioned with bow, arrows, sword, and a length of pliant rope, and knew how to use them all. “Keep clear of the flame!” he yelled. “He’s got to build up a bellyful between shots. When you see him start to heave, dodge sidewise!”
    Good advice! Any creature the size of a dragon was likely to be a trifle slow maneuvering, and that jet of fire needed careful aiming. In fact they might be safest close to the monster, so that they could dodge around it too quickly for it to orient. Not
too
close, for the dragon’s teeth and claws were devastating.
    Crombie, however, also possessed claws, and his beak was as good in its fashion as teeth. He had the advantage of flight. He could maneuver faster than the dragon despite his mass, though of course his weight was only a fraction of that of the dragon. But he was not a natural griffin, so would not be able to react with the same speed and precision as a true one.
    Bink himself was the weak link in the defense—or so it would naturally seem to the others. “Bink, stand back!” Chester cried as Bink charged forward. Bink had no way to explain to the centaur his seeming foolishness.
    The dragon slowed as it came within a dragon’s-length, its eye on its most formidable opponent: the griffin. Crombie emitted a shriek of challenge and looped toward the dragon’s tail. As the monster’s head turned to follow him, Chester fired an arrow into its neck. The shaft was driven with the power only a centaur could muster, but it merely bounced off the dragon’s metallic scales. “Have to get a shot into its mouth—when there’s no fire,” Chester muttered.
    Bink knew how dangerous that was. A clear shot into the mouth could be had only by standing more or less in front of the dragon while it opened its orifice—and normally it only didthat to bite or fire. “Don’t risk it!” he cried. “Let Crombie find us an escape!”
    But Crombie was out of hearing, and busy, and in any event the ornery centaur was not in a mood to retreat. If they did not attack the dragon at their convenience, the dragon would demolish them at its convenience.
    Bink moved in with his sword, seeking a vulnerable spot. The closer