Another Fine Myth by Robert Asprin

It occurred to me that what I was doing was not unlike forming the normal flat pentagram Garkin had used at the hut. The only difference being that instead of being inscribed on the floor, this was etched overhead with its points dipping downward to touch the earth. It was more an umbrella than a border.

The other major difference, I thought as I completed the task, was that I was doing it. Me. Skeeve. What I had once watched with awe, I was now performing as routine.

I touched the light down in its original place, completing the pentagram. Quietly pleased, I stood for a moment, eyes closed, studying the glowing blue lines etched in my mind’s eye.

“Terrific, kid,” came Aahz’s voice. “Now what say you damp it down a bit before we draw every peasant and demon hunter in the country.”

Surprised, I opened my eyes.

The pentagram was still there! Not imagined in my mind, but actually glowing overhead. Its cold blue light gave an eerie illumination to the scene that negated the warmth of our little campfire.

“Sorry, Aahz.” I quickly eased my control on the energy and watched as the lines of the pentagram faded to invisibility. They were still there. I could feel their presencetn the night air above me. Now, however, they could not be seen by normal vision.

More for the joy of it than out of any lack of confidence, I closed my eyes again and looked at them. They glowed there in shimmering beauty, a cooler, reassuring presence to counter the impatience of the redgold glow of the force-line spear pointing doggedly toward tomorrow’s path.