AUTHOR’S NOTES

I’ve discovered that I’m just not capable of practicing brevity, not even in writing an intro. <g> If you’re reading this then two miracles have happened: 1) I finished it and 2) I let someone read it. J

I began this story in early 2003---never claimed to be a fast writer. There were two versions originally. One is this version; the other is an alternate with fewer plot holes called “Blue Fire” (the unfinished chapters of which are available by request as a “Missing Scene”). I picked this one (difficult decision) because there were scenes my evil alter-ego just couldn’t stand to delete. This one is rather out there, and will include one or more of the following sci-fi clichés, er, I mean ‘standards’: Breaks in the space-time continuum that create alternate realities created by means you’ll just have to go with (you know I love AU <g>); ‘personality switcheroos’ where geeks get to let out their ‘dark side’ and the irresponsible become the hyper-serious (okay, I admit it, I just wanted an excuse to let David go over to the dark side for one story, the poor kid so rarely gets to have any fun having to be so serious all the time <evil grin>); pairings that I guarantee will make you go ‘Yikes!’ (if you’ve seen the show); plot holes you can drive a truck through (Deal with it. I gave up trying to patch them just so I could finish the darn story); the mandatory ‘writer can do whatever foul deeds she wants to the characters, since this is a space-time fracture story’ (you’ve been warned); writer taking liberties (say it with me: “A.U.”); and extensive flashback scenes.

And about that, if you don’t have patience for lengthy tales and/or lots of flashbacks, bail now. This story is novel-length and it’s chock full of flashbacks, especially the closer it gets to the end. (Flashbacks are the sections in italics.) Why so many flashbacks? The reason I wanted to write this story was to explore the Scott family history. To properly convey that history, I used flashbacks to their lives in the real universe. But, as this is a story about alternate time lines, I also felt it was important to make the alternate universe as rounded and real as possible. So, I had to fill in some ‘history of events in the alternate universe’ as I went. Filling in history (real or AU) using flashbacks lets me do all this while keeping the action flowing. If I write chronologically, it will be twenty pages before I even start the main plot of the story…plus I’ll spoil the ending. So, I’m trusting in the intelligence of the reader to handle the flashback format. Some/most are flashbacks to the real ‘verse and a few are flashbacks to the alternate universe. I’ll provide this help/cheat: If David’s an Outsider and/or Karl’s a skybax rider in the flashback segment, it’s a flashback set in the alternate universe. Otherwise, it’s a flashback set in the real (t.v. series) universe or an actual scene from the series.

I’ll repeat: This is VERY AU: I haven’t read the books. Honestly, just haven’t had the time and the money to buy and read them even though I feel one should do so ordinarily before taking on a story like this. I made a mess of myself just trying to figure out how to spell the names of people and dinosaurs and cities (I’m relying on people who have read the books and the imdb.com for my spellings). I’m still not sure I’ve got them right, but I tried. This fic is entirely surmised from the series; and what I didn’t know, I invented. If you can’t forgive that, bail now. I’ve only watched up to the episode “The Big Fight”, at which point the show was canceled. The DVD of the series didn’t come out for a year after I started this story and so I haven’t watched the other episodes yet. Being so far into this story at that point, I didn’t want to find something in the unaired episodes that resembled or might affect this story. I have no idea what happened after ‘The Big Fight’, so this takes place immediately after that episode. Now that I’m done, I’ll go watch my dvd with the remaining episodes...well, maybe not the cliffhanger episode they ended with because you have no idea how testy I get ;-) Also, my Outsiders are a bit more dangerous than the ones on the show (writer’s liberty---the ones on the show are too silly to be scary). Also, I hate, hate, hate the Karl/Marion/David triangle, but I had to use it for a plot catalyst in this story. I’m going to do my best not to take sides, but knowing me I’ll fail <g>.

Which Cast Do I Use? I’m basing this on the t.v. series cast, but visualize whichever cast you want (t.v. series or mini-series) or mix and match, it won’t make any difference. I do have actors in mind for the original characters, so you can e-mail and ask if you’re just dying of curiosity <g>.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the boys or anything Dinotopia, Hallmark Channel does. James Gurney owns 'Dinotopia'. No Mary-Sues in here but there are original characters (honestly, you can’t get around that). So, Jack, Dane, Robere, Pterra, Bertram, Miguel, Payden, Dayel, and the Moms are mine. Shō is mine, and the lyrics to Shō’s songs including “End of My World” are my property and my fault. Any similarities to actual bands or actual songs is a mondo-coincidence. The rest of the characters belong to Hallmark Entertainment. I’m not making money off this (hah, like anyone would pay me for this awful bit of writing…). Get comfy, because this is a looooong story, even by my standards. You know I love detail ;-) Don’t bother to flame me, I’ll ignore it and I’m already acknowledging it’s not a literary classic by any stretch of the imagination. I hope you like it anyway, though. ‘Missing Scenes’, playlist, and additional ‘Writer/Director’s Commentary’ (a.k.a. ‘the DVD extras version’) are available by request. Typos are mine (sorry).

Rating: Well, I can’t use the MPAA rating system or they’ll send a C&D order. This story contains mild language, moderate violence (nothing graphic or gross, most of it is fights and chases), and allusions to sexual situations (not shown since I don’t write sex scenes, and no slash). I’d tell you the pairings in this story, but I’d likely scare you aware. Suffice to say that, there’s no slash or ‘cest (eeww, eeww, eeww!), but beyond that anything can happen. I was feeling very impish and gave myself permission to go as far out there as I wanted. Final warning. This is also the only version where I use song quotes at the start of the chapters. I enjoy doing this, since I can’t provide a soundtrack or they’ll say I’m pirating music, but since the music industry is starting to get snippy with writers quoting lyrics, I have to discontinue their use in any versions of my stories posted on the Internet. If you’re desperate for the playlist I used while writing, e-mail me and I’ll tell you which songs you should track down for musical accompaniment. Now, on to the story (finally).

DINOTOPIA

“The Switch”

(Original Version)

by lln_books

1

The place was a sinkhole.

How anyone could call this island a ‘utopia’---no, make that Dinotopia---was beyond him. Of course, the little ‘topians looked happy enough, he mused as he moved through the crowded marketplace of Waterfall City. Why the hell shouldn’t they be happy? They didn’t know any better. You have to be on the outside of the bars to understand what it means to be inside of a prison. In the case of the ‘topians, you had to be on the other side of the meteor-formed Razor Reef (which together with its never-ending thunderstorm destroyed any vessel that crossed its path and made escape from the island nearly impossible) to appreciate all the things you were missing being stranded on Dinotopia.

It had been eight solid months since he’d set foot in the Real World (what the ‘topians referred to as ‘off-world’, for to them the “world” began and ended on their island). That made him the fourth most recent arrival on the island; the newest arrivals, the Scott family, had crashed here two months after him.

His last day in the outside world had ended when the small yacht, his place of employment as a steward to a toe-fungus of a day-trader man, had been sucked into the thunderstorm and cut neatly in half by the Razor Reef. What a great summer job that had turned out to be. What had become of his employer, the hangers-on who had joined him on his around-the-world cruise, or the other crewmembers, he didn’t know. He’d been trapped below decks, working on keeping the engines going as the storm battered the yacht, when they’d hit the reef. It was only because the ship had been broken in half that he’d escaped at all. As far as he knew, he was the only one who had washed up on the island. Floating in the sea in the raging storm, he wouldn’t have been able to spot the lifeboats if they’d been ten feet away. The last bits of the real world he had left were the few water-damaged pictures in his wallet and the Chinese Shō with the interwoven logo of his favorite rock band that was tattooed on the back of his left hand.

Eight months. Eight months of dodging the carnivorous dinosaurs (Dinosaurs. There were freaking dinosaurs on this island!) on a near-daily basis, of living on vegetables on good days and seaweed on bad days, of no television or radio, no sports---in short, nothing of the everyday things he’d taken for granted that had comprised his life in the real world. He was only grateful the Outsiders (as the ‘topians referred to the ‘rabble’ who shared neither their opinion of what a paradise this place was or their tolerance of the scalies-the dinosaurs---that populated the island) had found him before the ‘topians did. The outsiders might not have been the most trustworthy bunch of people---or even the most decent, he mused, thinking of the subtle but permanent limp he had from a confrontation with a particularly nasty outsider---but at least they weren’t going to brainwash him into becoming part of this happy little utopia/prison.

He'd been hidden within a darkened archway. Before stepping out into the streets, he took a cautious look around the marketplace to see if he’d drawn the attention of any of the ‘topian shoppers or the saurian guards. No one had given him a second look when he’d emerged from the stairway that descended down to the ‘topian temple. Apparently, in the outfit he’d appropriated for this trip into the city, with long sleeves hiding the tattoo on his arm, he looked just like the rest of ‘topians. He missed denim jeans, poly-cotton blend shirts, and Nikes. If he were stranded here for fifty years (which would never happen, he’d throw himself off a cliff first), he wouldn’t get used to walking around dressed like a medieval peasant. Not like a peasant, I look like the damn Pirate King in this outfit.

Luckily, the outfit was useful for one thing: With the loose-fitting shirt and coat, no one spotted the small, rounded pendant tucked inside the folds of his coat. If his luck held out, no one would notice the saurian guards he’d left unconscious in the Temple of the Falls either, at least not until he was far away from Waterfall City.

He hadn’t been to Waterfall City before, for the Outsiders avoided the 'Topian towns, but he’d memorized maps of the place that his outsider pack had pilfered from one of the ‘topian libraries. He’d seen the city only from a distance, when his Outsider pack had passed through the forests that covered the mountains surrounding the city. The place was spectacular; he’d give them that. It was like some alien planet out of the sci-fi books he'd liked to read in his past life, his life before the island. Its stone buildings and bridges had been constructed over and around rivers that ran right through the heart of the city. Outside the city limits, the rivers spilled downwards to form multiple roaring falls that fed the larger river at the base of the cliffs on which Waterfall City stood.

That was the one big problem with Waterfall City: It was too damn high. As he moved through the marketplace and crossed bridges, he deliberately averted his gaze from the waterfalls and their drop-offs. Just imagining how far down it was to the valley floor made his stomach churn and his vertigo kick in like a self-preservation alarm reminding him that a long drop usually ended with a sudden stop and a splat.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to avoid the dizzying heights of the waterfalls to accomplish the task that had brought him into Waterfall City.

The tallest structure was the tower that housed the city’s 'sunstone', the meteorite fragment that didn’t bother the non-carnosaur scalies who co-existed with humans, but was like Kyptonite to the predatory dinosaurs outside the city. Its rays were like a protective shield around the city and its boundaries, keeping the carnosaurs at bay. Every city and village on the island had one. The Outsider packs weren’t so lucky; they had to fend for themselves against the T-Rex, the Pteranodons, and the other predators, with whatever weapons they could build. Who could blame them for hating the scalies when every day was a fight not to become some dinosaur’s dinner?

The ‘sanctuary’, which he supposed was the ‘topian equivalent of a church or temple, was built on the shores of the river at the base of one of the city’s waterfalls. He hadn’t been able to read the ‘topian footprint language to find the sanctuary, but he'd been able to follow the landmarks drawn on the parchment. There had been a covered (thank God) stairway built alongside the falls that had lead down to the sanctuary. The entrance to the stairway had been a small archway marked with one of the ‘topian's Sentinels (what he hoped were only mythical half-human, half-dinosaur creatures) carved into its walls. The Sentinel had been easy enough to spot---he’d seen similar ones that were carved into the walls of the canyons where the skybax riders had their base.

Once he'd found the stairway to the temple, descending to the sanctuary below and slipping inside had been easy enough. The Outsiders (he couldn't quite call them 'friends', with one or two exceptions) who had found him months ago had taught the newcomer everything there was to know about which jungle plants would sedate a dinosaur. Survival had depended on such knowledge. Collect the right twigs and leafs, roll them into a bundle, burn the ends, and voila---smoke that would render the saurian guards at the sanctuary gate quite senseless. Another such bundle effectively neutralized the saurian, he supposed 'priestess' was the proper word, inside. The small box, containing the item that had brought him to Waterfall City, had been sitting exactly where the scrolls had said it would be: On the outstretched stone palms of a massive Guardian of the Temple statue.

He could have sworn the Guardian's giant stone eyes were alive and staring right through him as he approached. The sensation of something---supernatural---had given him pause, but only for a few moments. It's just like a really big garden gnome. It's not alive. It's not watching you. It's standing between you and getting home, so get a grip.

Home. The world had steeled his resolve. He had averted his eyes from the intimidating stare of the statue and reached for the box and the treasure inside...

Now, back on the streets of the city above, the box and its pendant tucked into his coat, he pushed his way past the few odd merchants’ booths on the side-street and through the shoppers who’d gathered to pick through their wares. He had to get out of the city before the temple guards snapped out of their stupor. Even with the skills at warding off scalies that he'd learned these past few months, he wasn't a match for an army of saurian guards and a town full of pissed off 'topians.

Distracted, watching for pursuers in the busy marketplace, he moved swiftly down one side-street and nearly collided with a large, round, female Casmasaur. He had to bite his tongue to hold back a very un-Dinotopian curse, but the old dinosaur merely gave him a wide smile and inclined her bulky head slightly in greeting. She said something he couldn’t interpret in her native scalie tongue.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he apologized. His hand automatically felt at his coat pocket, making sure the box hidden there hadn’t been dislodged by the impact. The collision had drawn a few looks from shoppers and he had no desire for close scrutiny. He tried to duck past the dinosaur.

She had, apparently, figured out that he didn’t speak her language, for she replied in English. “Oh no, pardon me, son. On your way back from the sanctuary this morning?” she asked. It wasn’t a difficult guess, since the sanctuary was the only destination one could have on that particular street.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Ah, splendid. It’s good to take time for meditation and reflection. Breathe deep, friend,” she approved.

She appeared to be waiting for the proper reply from him. He didn’t have the slightest knowledge of ‘topian phrases. So he returned the smile, hoping it was convincing, considering the extreme discomfort he was feeling speaking to a scalie. “Um, okay.” That left her at a loss for words, if nothing else, and he took the opportunity to make his escape before he attracted any more attention from the ceaselessly cheerful city dwellers, human or dinosaur.

There was still no sign of pursuit, and he was just starting to believe he might get out of the city before the theft was discovered. That was when he spotted the dark shape gliding through the skies above, heading in the direction of Waterfall City. A pterosaur (also called a ‘skybax’) and its rider…the Dinotopian Boy Scouts…and he could have guessed which flying dino-scout it was even if he hadn’t recognized the scalie’s distinctive markings. There was only one dino-scout who’d have the uncanny knack for swooping in just in time to screw up what should have been a simple escape from the city.

Concentrating on the approaching skybax, he was unprepared when a woman’s authoritative shout shattered the peaceful marketplace: “Thief!”

He risked a peek over his shoulder. The crowd parted way for a woman, who was all but flying towards him. Every outsider knew, on sight, everyone in authority among the ‘topians. This young woman was Marion Waldo, the daughter of the Mayor of Waterfall City and his wife, Rosemary (the matriarch of Waterfall City). Marion who was the owner of the pendant he’d just appropriated. Marion who would recognize him on the spot. Clearly, she knew the sunstone medallion had been removed from the Temple and just who had removed it. So much for the disguise. He ran, but didn’t get two steps before she caught him in a flying tackle, her strength fueled by determination and outrage. “Thief!”

Damn she was strong. The two of them had fallen in a tangle of arms and legs and were wrestling on the stone pavement now…and they were definitely drawing attention. He heard someone shout for the guards. She had pinned him face down on the pavement and was sitting on his back. Under different circumstances, he wouldn’t have minded at all, but this situation was going to lead to him being captured before the Council if he didn’t do something. He didn’t know what they did to thieves---locked them in prison? Fed them to the T-Rexes?---and he wasn’t interested in finding out. When she clawed at his coat to reach into the pockets and seize the box containing the sunstone pendant, he reached back, caught her arms, and rolled over so that she had to move or be crushed between his back and the pavement. She moved only for a second. As soon as he was on his back, before he could get to his feet, she pounced. They fought for the container. There was murder in her eyes when they met his own…

…it faded at once, replaced with a look of shock and recognition. Her attack ceased at once. She stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment, but the hostility was gone. He might have shoved her aside and run but for two things: First, she still had him pinned down, in her zeal to reclaim her jewelry and her outrage over the violation of their sanctuary, she paid no mind to the fact that she was now sprawled atop the outsider. Just the touch of her hand as she tried to pry the box containing the meteorite out of his own grasp, sent a jolt like an electrical current through him.

The second was a single word that she uttered with confusion: “David?”

*

“I thought casmasaurs were supposed to be friendly? How am I supposed to work on the farms with a big chunk gnawed out of my hand?!”

“Same way you always do, Jack---with both hands tucked under your head while you sleep all day in the barn.”

“Funny, Karl. Go ahead and smirk…you get to be ‘of the sky’ and have the cool pterosaur to fly around with the rest of the Dinotopian ‘Top Gun’ squad, I get to be ‘of the earth’ and stuck with a baby dinosaur.”

Jack Scott had made that complaint so many times in the past six months that his older half-brother simply ignored it. Karl could have told Jack the problem: Too many years watching reruns of ‘Jurassic Park’ and Discovery channel specials, plus the rampages of carnosaurs whenever the sunstones failed, had ingrained a deep and abiding fear of all dinosaurs in Jack. The baby casmasaur, Twenty-Six, Rosemary had given Jack as a life partner sensed his loathing and wanted nothing to do with the boy. It wasn’t like Rosemary to mismatch a saurian and a human, but in the case of Jack and Twenty-Six, it sure seemed like she’d missed the mark.

Then again, it’s not like her putting me with the skybax corps has turned out to be a bed of roses, Karl mused. As they stepped out of the house onto the streets of Waterfall City, the sun caught the orange-bronze fabric of his skybax rider uniform. His only pre-Dinotopia flying experience consisted of flying his father’s plane (accidentally) into the storm that stranded him and his family there. Flying the pterosaurs wasn’t any more fun---they bobbed and weaved like bucking broncos so that he was air-sick after every patrol he flew, the uniforms itched, he couldn’t get the smell of dinosaur out of his clothing, his wingmate was forever driving him nuts correcting his flying style or threatening him with bodily harm if he showed up late, and-worst of all---he hardly ever got to spend time with Marion. Karl wouldn’t mind babysitting a casmasaur every day if it meant getting to see more of the matriarch’s daughter. But, being a rider was an important job---important to the safety of the Dinotopians and to Marion---so Karl did his best. Besdies, if today worked out as he hoped it would, he might be seeing a lot more of Marion…

Karl was wavering between stopping in to visit Marion or heading directly for Canyon City and the skybax riders’ base, but his wingmate, Romana Denison, was already outside his door, waiting with her own pterosaur. She angled her head meaningfully towards the sky.

“I know, I know, I’m late.” Karl pointed to Jack’s bandaged hands. “Blame Dr. Doolittle here.”

“What happened to you?” Romana asked Jack.

Jack tried playing up the injury for sympathy. “That psycho dinosaur Rosemary stuck me with, that’s what. Damn menace. Tried to feed her and she almost bit my hand off! I’ll show you my mangled hand if you’ve got the stomach.”

“It’s barely a scratch,” Karl added. “I told you she doesn’t like vynstl roots.”

“Good judge of character, that Twenty-Six,” Romana grinned as she climbed onto her skybax.

Jack ignored the barb. He dashed over to Romana’s skybax and put his bandaged hand on her saddle. “Hey, Romana, how about giving an injured man a ride to Earth Farm?”

Romana stared down at the dark-haired boy like she was giving serious thought to having her pterosaur step on him. Karl hid his grin. “Have you been studying your saurian language, Jack?” she asked.

“I keep meaning to-have it on my ‘to do’ list and everything…”

“In that case…” Romana, in fluent saurian dialect, gave the younger Scott a colorful suggestion of what he could ride to the Earth Farm. Karl laughed; Jack blinked, oblivious.

“Was that a ‘no’?”

In answer, she gripped his injured hand just enough to elicit a yelp from him and removed it from her saddle. “How can he be your brother?” she asked her wingmate.

“I have no idea.”

“Funny, Karl,” Jack sulked a bit, until an evil smirk lit his face. “At least I ask the girl instead of rehearsing what to ask her in the mirror all day and choking when the girl shows up. Better to strike out than never get up to bat…right, bro?”

Karl was torn between wanting to kick himself for getting caught practicing how to ask Marion to the Dawn Festival and the need to strangle his nosy twerp of a brother for overhearing him mid-practice speech. Jack---only fourteen and already a swaggering, horny little skirt-chaser if ever there was one---had never in his lifetime missed an opportunity to torment his older, less ‘romantically successful’ brother about girls. Karl knew exactly how and where he wanting to ask Marion. He’d never admit to doing so, but he’d taken a page from Jack’s summertime antics at Camp Tehema. Tehema Falls was the ‘official unofficial’ make-out spot for the teenagers at Camp Tehema. No summer went by without Jack taking another hit-and-run victim up there---or sharing every detail of his conquest with his brother. Karl spent most of those summers reading books in the cabin and fending off some of the Cro-Magnon cretins that preyed on nerds.

Karl had found one of the secluded, beautiful little waterfalls in the forest near Waterfall City. Best of all, the spot, while within the sunstone’s protective zone, was secluded enough that he and Marion weren’t likely to be disturbed by human or saurian intruders. Maybe he’d ask Marion after he got back from this mission for the corps…

Romana hid her smile as Karl flushed bright red. “You didn’t ask Marion to the festival yet?”

Karl didn’t reply, but Jack mimed choking in answer for him. Ignoring him, Karl climbed onto Pterra. “Go ahead, Ro, I’ll drop the Casanova at Earth Farm. If I don’t decide to drop him in a T-Rex nest first.” He reached down to give Jack a hand onto the skybax.

Romana frowned, hesitant. “Don’t be late. I want to reach the coast before midday.”

“I won’t,” Karl promised. He didn’t need to see Jack to know his younger brother was staring daggers at the back of his head. “What?”

“You’re going to the coast? That’ll take all night. You were supposed to come to the tavern tonight,” Jack reminded him. No wonder Karl’s saddle pack had looked more full than usual-he’d probably packed enough for an overnight trip and was just going to blow off the family gathering by messenger bird when he reached the coast. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I said I’d try to come to the tavern. Patrol comes first.”

Jack wasn’t buying that. “You always say that. Why don’t you want to see Dad?”

Their father’s voice echoed in Karl’s memory: “I used to lay awake all night worrying what that boy was going to do with his life. You wouldn’t believe how many clubs, camps, trips, and supplies I paid for trying to keep up with that kid. I tried to get him into tee ball; he wanted to join the chess club. I want him in football; he joins the debate team. Forget Little League or soccer, he wants science camp. Then there was Junior Gleaners, the Decathletes---that’s academic, not sports, mind you---the Future Archeologist Club, the Future Weatherman Club. Nothing made Karl happy. I don’t know what he wants. I don’t think he knows what he wants, but I’m supposed to be able to guess. Now he’s convinced himself the skybax corps is going to make him happy. I give it a month at most before he quits…”

“…he’s been real good about not nagging you about the corps lately, hasn’t he? I mean, he’s trying,” Jack was reasoning.

Karl didn’t feel like being reasonable…and he for damn sure didn’t want to have this argument while on a busy street with his wingmate standing right there. Jack would keep at him unless Karl changed the subject quickly. “Where’s your gear? You going to work the crops with your bare hands?”

Jack jumped right off Pterra. “I forgot my pack! I’ll be right back!” He dashed back into the house.

Romana sighed, mumbling, “…scut patrols again…Well, he’s right about one thing, Karl, your father---”

“Is always going to think I’m a flake or a nerd or whatever. He’s had eighteen years, Ro, I think if he were going to get supportive, it would have happened by now.”

Romana sighed. “You really are a mule sometimes, Scott.” Before he could form a retort, she signaled her skybax, and the pterosaur sprang into the sky. He was left fuming on the street.

A minute passed, and then another. Romana’s skybax grew smaller on the horizon until it could no longer be seen. Karl grew impatient. “Jack! Get the lead out!” he shouted at the house.

Jack appeared in the doorway, lugging his pack, which Karl suspected was filled with pillows and snacks instead of farming tools. “Yeah, yeah…I’m coming. Hey, bro, you think Romana’d go out with me? I think she likes me,” Jack grinned.

“Yeah that must be it. C’mon, Jack, hurry up!””

“THIEF! Thief at the Sanctuary!”

The alert came from saurian guards as they dashed past the skybax and its rider, heading in the direction of the main river and its waterfall. A crowd of people followed the guards to see what the commotion was about. Jack had to flatten himself against the wall of the house to avoid being trampled by the throng as they rushed down the cobblestone street.

Karl could get to the Sanctuary faster than the guards. “Stay here, Jack!” he ordered, then urged Pterra aloft.

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