Another Fine Myth by Robert Asprin

In a moment I had great gobs of dung hurtling through the air at my assailants. My accuracy wasn’t the best, but it was good enough as the outraged howls testified.

“Levitation!” the leader bawled. “Quanto! Stop him!”

“Right, boss!”

One of the plug-uglies waved in affirmation and started rummaging through his belt pouch.

He had made a mistake identifying himself. I didn’t know what he was about to come up with, but I was sure I didn’t want to wait and find out.

“Stop him, Gleep!” I ordered, pointing to the victim.

The dragon raised his head and fixed his gaze on the fumbling brigand. With a sound that might have been a roar if he were older, he shot a stream of flame and charged.

It wasn’t much of a stream of flame, and it missed to boot, but it was enough to get the brigand’s attention. He looked up to see a mountain of dragon flesh bearing down on him and panicked. Without pausing to call to his comrades, he spun and ran off screaming with the dragon in hot pursuit.

“Okay, shrimp! Let’s see you stop this!”

I jerked my attention back to the leader. He was standing now, confidently holding aloft a stick. Yesterday it wouldn’t have fazed me, but knowing what I did now, I froze. I didn’t know what model it was, but apparently the leader was confident its powers would surpass my own.

He grinned evilly and slowly began to level the stick at me.

I tried desperately to think of a defense, but couldn’t. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to be defending against!

Suddenly, something flashed across my line of vision and the stick was gone.