Piers Anthony - The Source of Magic

"The way-it'll will be dark in places," Jewel said. "I hadn't thought-without magic there's no glow, no magic light. I'm afraid of the dark."

There had been some residual glow, but it was fading. Bink looked at the rats, so close. "With reason," he said. "We have to see what we're fighting." He felt naked without his talent, though it only protected him against magic-a protection that was irrelevant now. For practical purposes his situation was unchanged, since no magic threatened him. Not now or ever again. "Fire-we need fire for light. Torches-if we can make torches-"

"I know where some fire stones are!" Jewel said. But she reconsidered immediately. "Only I don't think they are working, without magic."

"Do you know where there's dry grass-I mean straw-something we could twist up tight and burn? And-but I don't know how the Mundanes make fire, so-"

"I know where there's magic fire-" She broke off. Oh, this is awful! No magic-" She looked as if about to cry. As Bink knew, real sternness of character was not to be found in nymphs. They seemed to have been fashioned by magic to accommodate man's casual dreams, not his serious ones.

Yet he had cried, too, when he first grasped the immensity of what he had done. How much of his perception of the nature of nymphs was human-chauvinistic?

"I know," Bink cried, surprising himself. "There was something burning-I smelled it before. If we went there-picked up some of whatever's burning-"

"Great!" she agreed, with a flash of nymph-enthusiasm. Or female enthusiasm, he corrected his impression mentally.

They soon found it by following their noses: the remains of a magic garden the goblins must have tended, now sere and brown. The dead foliage was smoldering, and the smoke formed layers in the upper reaches of the garden cave. The goblins, of course, were far removed from this region; they had been so afraid of the fire that they had not even tried to put it out.

Bink and Jewel gathered what seemed like the best material, forming it into an irregular rope, and lit the end. The thing guttered and flared and went out in a cloud of awful-smelling smoke. But after several tries they got it working better; it was enough to have it smolder until they needed an open flame, which they could blow up anytime. Jewel carried it; it gave her a feeling of security she sorely needed, and Bink had to have his hands free for fighting.

Now the worst of the enemies were the goblins, who evidently resented the intrusion into their garden. There had been no direct evidence of them before-but of course they had been on the diggle, with protective magic and much light. In the absence of light the goblins grew bolder. They seemed to have been bred from men and rats. Now that the magic was gone, the man-aspect was diminishing and the rat-aspect was becoming more pronounced. Bink realized that this was evident mostly in their habits; physically they still resembled brutish little men, with big soft feet and small hard heads.

The difficulty with the goblins was that they had the intelligence of men and the scruples of rodents. They slunk just out of sight, but they were not cowards. It was simply that no one, three, or six of them could stand up to Bink's sword, and there was not room for a greater number of them to approach him at one time. So they stayed clear-without giving up.

"I think they know I freed the Demon," Bink muttered. "They're out for revenge. I don't blame them."

"You did what you believed was right!" Jewel flared.

He put his arm about her slender waist. "And you are doing what you believe is right, helping me reach the surface-even though we both know I was wrong. I have destroyed the magic of Xanth."

"No, you weren't wrong," she said. "You had empathy for the Demon, and-"

He squeezed her. "Thank you for saying that. Do you mind if I-" He stopped. "I forgot! I'm not in love with you any more!"

"I don't mind anyway," she said.

But he let her go, embarrassed. There was an evil cackle of laughter from a goblin, Bink stooped to pick up a stone to hurl at the creature, but of course it missed.

Bink armed himself with a number of rocks, and hurled one every time he saw a goblin. Soon he got remarkably accurate, and the goblins gave him a wider berth. Stones had a special magic that had nothing to do with real magic; they were hard and sharp and plentiful, and Bink had a much better arm than any goblin possessed. Still, they did not give up. Beauregard's warning had been accurate: Bink had not encountered goblins as brave and tenacious as these before.

Bink wanted to rest, for he was tired, but dared not. If he rested, he might sleep, and that could be disaster. Of course he could have Jewel watch while he slept-but she was after all only a nymph-rather, a young woman, and he was afraid the goblins would overwhelm her in such a situation. Her fate in goblin hands would probably be worse than his.

He glanced at her covertly. This rough trek was taking its toll. Her hair had lost its original sparkle and hung in lusterless straggles. She reminded him somewhat of Chameleon-but not in her beauty phase. They dragged on, and made progress. Near the surface the ascent became more difficult. "There's not much communication with the topworld," Jewel gasped. "This is the best route-but how you climb it without wings or a rope I don't know."

Bink didn't know either. If this had been a convenient route, Crombie's talent would have pointed it out on the way in. The day sky was visible through a crack in the ground above-but the walls sloped in from the broader cavern-space below, and they were slick with moisture. Impossible to climb, without magic.

"We can't stay here long," Jewel said worriedly. 'There's a tangle tree near the exit, and its roots can get ornery." She stopped short, startled. "I'm still doing it! Without magic-"

That was why Crombie's talent hadn't pointed this way, he realized. A tangler! But the bad magic was gone with the good. "Let's go!" he cried.

He found the tangle roots and ripped them out of the rock, and severed them where they would not come free. Quickly he knotted them into a strong if ragged rope. Tangle roots were strong; they were made for holding struggling prey fast. No question: this rope would hold his weight!

"But how can we get it up there?" Jewel asked anxiously.

"There's a major tangle root-trunk crossing at the narrowest section," Bink said. "See, right up there." He pointed.

She looked. "I never noticed! I must have been here half a dozen times before, teasing the tangler and wondering what the world above was like. I was supposed to be planting gems…" Her nymphly confession trailed off. "You certainly are observant."

"You certainly are complimentary. Don't worry; you will get to see the surface world this time. I won't leave you until you're safe on the surface and in good hands. Maybe at the magic-dust village."

She looked away, not answering. He glanced at her, peering through the smoke of the smoldering weed rope she held, concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"

She looked back at him with sudden decision. "Bink, you remember when we first met?"

He laughed. "How could I forget! You were so beautiful, and I was so grimy-almost as grimy as we both are now! And I had just taken the-" He shrugged, not wanting to get into the embarrassing matter of the love potion again. "You know, I'm almost sad that's over. You're an awfully nice nymph, and without your help-"

"You loved me then, and I didn't love you," she said. "You were devious, and I was simple. You lured me in close, then grabbed me and kissed me."

Bink fidgeted. "I'm sorry, Jewel. I-it won't happen again."

"That's what you think," she said, and flung her arms about him and planted a passionate kiss on his half-open mouth. Dirty as she was, it was still a remarkable experience; almost he felt the tug of the love potion again. He had loved her before without knowing her; now he knew her and understood her nymphly limitations and respected her for trying so hard to overcome them, and he liked her more than was entirely proper. A genuine affection had been developing beneath the artificial love, and that affection remained. What would Chameleon think, if she saw this embrace?