Midworld by Alan Dean Foster Read Free Book Online Page A

blue monster below and return to tell of it to all. The others who had left would be ashamed, and Brightly Go would smile favoringly on him.
    Still, it was to be considered that there had been only brave men in the little group, and that wise Reader was not an idiot. There still existed the chance he was wrong and everyone else was right. He put aside this unpleasant possibility and whistled once, softly.
    Ruumahum appeared in a minute, the small branch sagging under their combined weight. The furcot eyed him expectantly, promptly crossed all four front paws and went to sleep. Born studied the massive form absently before turning his attention to the right. There, past a few thick fronds and several dangling vines, lay the pit open to the Upper Hell. At the bottom of the pit lay an enigma he would have to resolve alone. Well, not quite alone.
    He whacked Ruumahum along one side of his head, a blow that would have jolted a large man. The furcot merely blinked, yawned, and started preening itself with a forepaw.
    “Up and out,” Born said firmly.
    Ruumahum stared at him drowsily. “What to do?”
    “Come, good for nothing. I want a close look at the blue thing.”
    Ruumahum snorted. Didn’t the person have two perfectly good eyes of his own? But he conceded that Born was right. Someone would have to watch the open spaces above and to the sides while Born was exposed in the clearing.
    Born crawled, alone, without loaded snufflers to back him up, without ironwood spears to reinforce his confidence, to the edge of the pit and stared downward. The glistening blue circle lay as before. It had not moved and showed no sign of moving. Even as he watched, a loud crackling sounded, and the object appeared to drop a little lower. The well it had made was ample testament to its great weight, and it seemed to be sinking deeper, branch by shattered branch, cubble by overstressed cubble. It might continue to sink, falling to the Sixth Level and eventually to the Lower Hell itself. Born would not seek it at that depth for all the meat in the forest, not even for Brightly Go. He had to proceed now, before the chance was forever denied him.
    He leaned out further over the abyss, tightening his grip on the seemingly unbreakable liana nearby. The liana might have been unbreakable. His grip wasn’t. Something clutched him around waist and neck and yanked hard. The yell in his throat turned to anger as he disengaged himself from the gentle grasp of Ruumahum.
    “What the—?”
    Ruumahum glanced significantly upward, rumbled softly. “Devil comes.”
    Born peered up through a crack in the well wall. At first he did not see the dark speck against the sky, but it grew rapidly larger. When the shape became recognizable, Born retreated another meter into the forest and loaded the snuffler.
    The sky-devil had a long streamlined body suspended between broad wings. Four leathery sacks, two to a side, inhaled air and expelled it out rubbery nozzles near the monster’s tail. It moved in gaspy jerks as it circled lower and lower. A long-snouted reptilian head weaved atop a snakelike neck. Two yellow eyes stared downward, and needlelike teeth flashed in the pale green sunlight. Ideally equipped for skimming silently across the treetops hundreds of meters above and picking off careless arboreals, the sky-devil found itself drawn to something deep in the well. Three-meter wings left it little room for maneuvering within that crude cylindrical gap, but it managed, circling, spiraling lower and lower in tight circles, examining each section of the green wall as it dropped.
    Born sat very still on his branch, concealed behind a broad leaf taller than Losting, wrapped tight in his green cloak. The devil reached his level, circled, and passed on. Staying close to the branch, Born edged his way to the precipice once again. Far below he saw the scaled back and wings winding down toward the blue object. Eventually it reached bottom, folded its wings, and stopped.