Read Midworld for Free Online

staring at him, half wanting to believe he had seen something that was not a demon. He struggled to recall that instant of falling, that glimpse of alien blue among the branches. It caught the light like an asanis leaf—no, more like his knife when it was polished.
    His eyes roved absently as he thought furiously for something to compare it with. “Like the axe!” he blurted, pointing dramatically to the weapon dangling in the shaman’s hand. “It was like the axe.” Everyone’s gaze automatically shifted to the holy weapon, Reader’s included. Soft whispers of derision sprang up. Nothing was like the axe.
    “Perhaps you are mistaken, Born,”
    Sand ventured gently. “It did, as you say, happen very fast. And you were falling when you saw it.”
    “I’m positive about it, sir. Just like the axe.” He wished he was as certain as he tried to sound, but he could not back down on his story now without sounding like a complete fool.
    “In any case,” he found himself saying, to his horror, “it is a simple enough matter to prove. We need only go and look.”
    The mutterings from the crowd grew louder; they were no longer derisive, but shocked.
    “Born,” the chief began patiently, “we do not know what this thing is or where it has gone. It may have already returned to the depths from which it probably came. Let it stay there.”
    “But we don’t know,” objected Born, leaving his place to stand close by the fire.
    “Maybe it hasn’t returned. Maybe it’s down only a level or so, sleeping, waiting to catch the scent of the Home to come seeking us one by one in the night. If it is such a monster, then we would do better to seek it out first and slay it as it sleeps.”
    Sand nodded slowly, stared around at the people. “Very well. Who will go with Born to sniff out the trail of this demon?” Born turned to look at his fellow hunters, silently imploring. Long silence, defiant stares. Then, startlingly, a response came from an unexpected quarter.
    “I will go,” Losting announced. He stood and stared smugly across at Born as if to say, if you’re not afraid of this thing, then there can be nothing to be afraid of. Born did not meet the other man’s eyes.
    Reluctant assent came from the hunter Drawn and the twins Talltree and Tailing.
    The other hunters would eventually have given in and agreed out of fear of appearing cowardly, but Reader raised the axe. “It is enough. I will go, too, despite my better judgment. It is not appropriate that men should visit one of the damned without an authority on damnation.”
    “That’s for sure,” someone muttered.
    The laughter this provoked was a welcome release from the solemnity of the proceedings.
    Sand put a hand over his mouth delicately to hide an unchiefly chuckle.
    “Now let us pray,” he intoned forcefully, “that those who seek out the demon shall find him sickly and weak, or not find him at all, and return to us whole and sound.” He raised both hands, lowered his head, and commenced a chant.
    No Earthly theological authority would have recognized that chant. No minister, priest, rabbi, or witch doctor could have identified its source or inspiration, though any bioengineer could. What none of them could have explained was why this chant seemed so effective there under the crying night sky and leaf-leather canopy.
    Triple orbs glowed like hot coals, reflecting the dance of the distant flickering fire. Ruumahum lay in the crook in the branches and stared down doubtfully at the gathered people. His muzzle rested on crossed forepaws. A clumsy scratching and clawing sounded on the limb alongside his resting place. A moment later, forty kilos of awkwardly propelled fur and flesh crashed into his flank. He growled irritably and glanced back. It was the cub who had attached itself to the orphan young person, Din.
    “Old one,” Muf queried softly, “why are you not at rest like the others of the brethren?”
    Ruumahum turned his gaze back to the distant