See part one for explanation and disclaimers. Hallmark & James Gurney still own the characters and I’m still not profiting from this. Hope you’re enjoying this. Still recommended for teens and up for action/violence and mild language.

11

"Ow, ow, ow, ow....lemme go! I can walk on my own, you know!"

Romana Denison ignored the complaints of fourteen-year-old Jack Barrett, who was squirming as she hauled him by the scruff of the neck into the Scott Tavern. The woman’s grip was like a vice, meant to convey her displeasure to the boy. Walking in behind them, her wingmate, David Scott, was still rubbing the spot on the back of his head where Jack had bonked him with a piece of firewood.

The group’s noisy arrival interrupted the only occupants of the tavern---David’s father and younger brother---who were clearing off tables and putting away dishes in preparation to close up the tavern for the night. From his usual place behind the bar, Frank glanced at the trio, sized up the situation in a microsecond, and circled around the bar to meet them. His main concern was inspecting the bump on the back of David’s head with a frown. "What happened? You okay?“

David winced when Frank pressed a dishcloth over the small gash. “Yeah, just great.”

“It’s barely a scratch. These two ganged up on me. No one asked me if I was okay,” Jack pouted.

“Noticed that did you?” Romana deposited him on a chair at the nearest table.

David explained, “Your Outsider buddy decided it was easier to rob Earth Farm--again---than work there and just about cracked my head open when we caught him."

Jack swallowed. Frank Scott had a good reputation in the packs and was generally known to be friendly to the Outsiders, adopting a “live and let live” attitude about the differences between the ways of life of the packs and the ways and philosophies of the ‘topians. The Outsiders were as welcome as the ‘topians at his tavern---as long as they didn’t cause trouble for him or his sons. Le Sage had broken that rule trying to fix the fight between David Scott and the outsider Alano by trying to drug David, and Jack had overheard Frank warning her in no uncertain terms never to mess with one of his kids again. Fearing Frank’s wrath---especially with the glare the older man wore at that moment--- Jack quickly added, "I'm not a farmer. I was hungry."

Karl Scott was there too, with that ever-present baby casmasaur of his sitting at his heel while he wiped off the tables. She growled at Jack when he gave her a look of disdain, and Karl scratched the scalie’s head to calm her down. "And you brought him here why?" Karl asked David. Karl didn’t look mad, but then, he was probably used to hearing stories about Jack’s misdeeds by now. Like his father, Karl tended to be accepting of some of the antics of the outsider packs. Karl was known to bend-or break---a few ‘topian rules himself from time to time. That was one of the reasons Jack respected Frank and Karl. David was another story. He was the worst sort of off-worlder as far as the fourteen-year-old was concerned---an off-worlder who’d turned scalie-lover almost as soon as his feet hit the island. Plus, at least once a month, he and that Romana Denison popped up on those flying scalies of theirs to screw up what should have been simple and harmless tasks that Gabriel assigned to Jack.

David pointed to Frank, but commanded Jack: "Show him."

This wasn’t going to do anything to get rid of Frank’s angry glare, Jack knew, but it was better he fished the item from his pocket of his own free will. He figured Romana would twist his arm in every possible way if he balked. It was just a little thing, really, a ring that the off-worlders used to hold their keys. Frank had left it unattended one night when Jack visited the tavern. Jack had pocketed it, with every intention of returning it…well someday. It was a little compass, cracked and broken now. Jack’s interest had been the reverse side of the compass, where pictures and words in a language he couldn’t read had been etched onto the silver backing. He couldn’t read Dinotopian footprint language, much less the multiple languages of the off-worlders. It was the picture the boy had wanted. The picture was of someplace off-world, therefore it fascinated the fourteen year old. All things off-world interested him. He had stared for hours at the etched image of the building with the broken pillars that sat at the top of some sort of hill, and he had wondered about the key on the ring and what lock it might have opened when the Scotts were off-world.

Sure enough, when Jack returned the compass, Frank looked even more angry. "What---where did you get this?"

Jack felt an unfamiliar emotion: Shame. "I'm sorry, it just..." he stammered.

"Jumped into your pocket?" Karl guessed.

"Can it do that?" Jack asked.

David shook his head, the motion making him grimace. “I don’t have time for this. We have to get back to the base. Nice patrons, Dad."

Frank argued, “You’re not going flying with that knot on your head!”

At the table, Karl made a face. “Here we go again…” he said just loud enough for Jack to hear.

"I’m fine and we've got prep work for the expedition to finish. We just dropped by to drop off Sticky Fingers here," David insisted. Behind him Romana smiled patiently and shrugged at Frank, apologizing for her wingmate’s stubbornness.

"It wouldn't kill you spend some time here once in awhile, would it?" Frank asked. “You at least planning to let us know before you go flying off to God-Knows-Where next month?”

David paused halfway to the door, looking almost guilty for just a moment. "We'll see."

Jack whined, not wanting to interrupt and draw their attention back to himself, but not wanting to be left alone with Frank---not while the older man was still angry with him. "How am I getting back to Earth Farm?" he whined.

Romana wasn’t amused. “If you come near Earth Farm again without intending to put in an honest day's work, I'll make you pay for your food by cleaning up after every pterosaur in Canyon City. Starting with mine."

Karl reached across the table and cheerfully patted Jack’s shoulder. "That ought to take the edge off the ol' hunger, right Jack?” He followed his brother and Romana out the door. “David, hold on. I want to talk to you."

Jack rose from the chair and tried to make his escape. "Right, well, looks like I’ll be walking..."

Frank wasn’t that distracted. "Sit!" he barked.

Instantly, Jack sat. In his haste, he stepped to close to the casmasaur and she promptly nipped him hard on his calf. "Ouch! Damn scalies!" Jack rubbed his leg. "Saurian life partners…no thank you. Look, Frank, I'm sorry about the key ring. I meant to give it back..."

“Don’t give me excuses. You take responsibility for your own actions. I don’t care if you meant to give it back, you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place. I believe in second chances, but if you want to hang around my tavern or hear about off-world, you’re going to have to lose the kleptomania. Quickly.” Frank sat down across from the teenager, studying him as if carefully choosing his words. "I know David can get a little--enthusiastic---about sticking to the rules, but he's right. You can have a job at Earth Farm any time you want. Rosemary can arrange it. There's no reason for you to be stealing."

Jack snorted. "No way!"

"Why not?"

Jack would never have been interested in farming, but that wasn’t the only reason he had to---appropriate---some ‘topian property now and then. He had duties to his pack. It was easy for the Scotts to preach. They didn’t know what life in the packs was like. Jack would bet anything, if he had anything to bet, that they'd have different attitudes---especially that David Scott---if they had someone like Gabriel Dane to answer to. Jack would love to see one of them say no to Gabriel one time and have the pack leader chain them to the hunting pits---to watch how fast they changed their minds about the rights of scalies and the evils of stealing.

No, Jack reconsidered. Frank was all right and Karl was all right. Maybe that wouldn’t be so funny after all. For an instant, Jack had the fleeting wish that he’d been born part of their family instead of an orphan on this awful island with only the pack for his clan. But still, the Scotts shouldn’t be telling him what to do.

Frank’s harsh tone softened. "You scared of Le Sage?"

Jack groaned. “No way.”

"Someone besides Le Sage?" Frank pressed.

Jack didn’t want to tell Frank about the packs. Frank was just the sort to take it on himself to do something about it if he knew some of the stuff the pack members were capable of. Jack was scared of what Gabriel or Payden would do if the off-worlder interfered in the business of their pack. "Frank, trust me, you don't want any part of it."

Frank didn’t let it go so easily. "I'll help you if you want."

"I don't want. But thanks anyway."

Frank sighed, but then nodded, respecting the teenager’s wishes for the time being. Jack wasn’t his son, he couldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. To Jack’s shock, the off-worlder stood up, moved to rummage for something behind the bar, and returned to the table with a gift for the boy. It was an off-worlder magazine, water-damaged but still legible. Jack couldn’t read the language, but it was full of pictures of machines he knew were called ‘motorcycles’. He felt himself grinning like a halfwit.

"I traded for this last time I was in Waterfall City. Thought you might like it," Frank said.

Jack turned the pages carefully. He feared ripping them. When he reached the last page minutes later, he closed the magazine and tucked it carefully into the tattered bag slung over his shoulder for safekeeping. "Frank, thanks."

“You’re welcome.”

Sensing the older man was in a better mood now, Jack dared to ask. “Is it okay if I go?” At Frank’s nod, the boy stood up. He was about to head for the door, until he saw David and Romana were still out front. David and Karl were having some sort of heated discussion. Romana was standing a little ways off from them, looking at them as though she were watching bickering children. " Uh, could I go out the back door?" Jack added.

Frank grinned at that. "Go ahead. And Jack?"

Jack glanced back at the off-worlder. "Yeah?"

"Mess with one of my kids again, and you're not going to have to worry about dealing with Gabriel Dane anymore. You'll be dealing with me. Got it?"

Okay, so he knew about Gabriel…so much for keeping Frank in the dark. Jack guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised…there wasn’t much Frank didn’t hear with all the outsiders who passed through the tavern. Jack hoped he was smart enough not to mess with the pack leader at least. "Yes, sir."

"Good."

Leaving it at that, Jack slipped out the back door of the tavern. He could hear the Scott brothers arguing even there behind the building.

"---so what? You're okay with getting Alano into the corps, but not your brother?" Karl was almost yelling.

Jack shook his head. Maybe he should reconsider the whole wishing he were part of the Scott family thing….

The barrage of blue images from the faith stone shifted again. The tavern in the forest faded and was replaced with the mental picture of the ocean.

Jack saw himself, still in the outsider garb, on a beach he recognized as Gull’s Bay. He knew that this memory was from weeks before his conversation with Frank at the tavern. Gabriel had taken the pack there all the time, certain that Cyrus’ sub was there. He had the men in the pack swimming the bay from sunrise to sunset, looking for the boat. It was fine with Jack, because the teenager could slip away to the nearby rocks. That afternoon, he was trying to look through a book that had washed up with the morning tide.

“What have you got there?!”

Jack almost had heart failure at the shout and made a hasty effort to stuff the object in question back into his pack. He’d tried to be careful about sneaking to the rocks---had kept one eye over his shoulder for any sign of pursuit, be it human or reptilian. He hadn’t wanted to be found with his treasures, especially not by his pack, fearing reprisal for wasting time on what the pack acknowledged to be ‘the worthless hobbies of the lazy or the useless’. Gabriel and Payden would be mad enough that Jack hadn’t got one scrap of food from Earth Farm thanks to David Scott and Romana Denison.

Jack didn’t secure his treasure fast enough. A dirty hand reached over his shoulder and snatched the flat case from his grasp. Jack knew that hand and the voice that had interrupted his quiet time on the tiny beach. He was lucky that, of anyone in the pack, Dayel had been the one to find him with that particular object. He was Payden’s teenage son, but he wasn’t nearly as scary as his father. That didn’t mean the older boy wouldn’t go running back to the pack, Gabriel, and his dad, and tell them all what their youngest member had been doing.

Jack stumbled to his feet, “Give it back, Dayel!”

Dayel had no intention of doing so. As Jack snatched at the magazine, he ended up grasping Jack’s pack and upending it, spilling more of the boy’s treasures onto the sand. Jack managed to retrieve the magazine only because a different object drew Dayel’s attention. The older teen bent to pick up the fallen item, and turned his back to Jack, using his larger frame to block Jack’s attempts to take back the rest of his belongings.

The object was small, flat, and square shaped, made of some hard, translucent material. It looked like a box, but Jack couldn’t figure anything skinny enough to fit into such a tiny and flat case. The box had a picture on its front---a strange symbol that Jack didn’t recognize. He knew the lettering was another of the myriad off-worlder languages. When Dayel opened the case, he saw more lettering printed on the reverse side of the picture and a round, shiny disk with still more off-worlder words printed on it.

The box was Jack’s favorite of his collection. Jack once had asked Frank to translate some of the words printed on the box. Frank called it a ‘music cd’ box and obliged with the translating. The cover of his particular box read: ‘Shō: The Shō Must Go On’. On the inside, there was a small collection of poems. Frank had called the poems “songs” and the songs “noise” and “not real music”. Jack didn’t know what that meant. He liked the “songs” In fact, Jack had memorized every one of the ‘songs’. His favorite was the one called ‘End of My World’:

‘Time is ruined, you can’t go back. Storms are brewin’, the world’s off track.

this life’s over, I’ll hit the road. One more rover, who’s sold his soul.’

Dayel’s brow furrowed, betraying his confusion. “What is this thing? This is off-worlder junk, isn’t it?”

Jack was pale from fear, but he still wrestled with determination until he pried the object from Dayel’s grasp. “It’s mine now.”

He knew how that poet felt. The ‘song’ titles were repeated on the back of the box, along with a list of names and dates. Jack had two ‘music c.d.s’. His other ‘c.d’. had a cover that read: ‘Cursed Chicken: A Fox in the Henhouse’. The picture was a drawing of a chicken, with spirals where his eyeballs should have been, being chased by a fox. Jack had empathy for the chicken in the drawing---he’d been chased by hungry predators in his life, too.

He only wished he could hear these ‘songs’, could hear their melodies in his mind. Frank was no help, professing that he didn’t listen to music like that. Jack wasn’t about to ask Karl Scott or, worse, David Scott about the songs. He wondered if the off-worlders’ music was like the music on the island. Judging by the strange instruments the off-worlders pictured on the c.d.s were playing, he didn’t think so.

Carefully, almost lovingly, Jack closed the flat box and tucked his prize into his backpack. All the off-worlder treasures he’d found on beaches or traded for with people in the villages were stored in that pack, which he always kept slung over his shoulder or very close by just so that none of his pack members ever found his collection. Besides his two music c.d.s and the magazine Frank had given him, Jack had found a short-sleeved black shirt with a strange machine pictured on the front and the words “Harley-Davidson” on the back, an flat gold disk attached to a hoop (another ‘key ring’) that read ‘Kolika Louise’, a very water-damaged off-worlder book written in an off-worlder language Jack hadn’t learned but which was very pretty to look at, a pen that Frank interpreted to read: ‘Johnson’s Auto-Rama, Dearborn, MI’, and a toy turtle that bobbed its head at the slightest motion.

“If Dane and my father catch you wastin’ valuable space lugging useless off-worlder junk, they’ll skin you, Jack. You know better,” Dayel warned. Despite his warning, he didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry to run and rat out Jack to the pack leaders, for which Jack was grateful.

Gabriel Dane and Payden Borael had taught him since the day they found him as a toddler, orphaned by a T-Rex attack, never to waste space and energy carrying things he didn’t need for survival. Dayel was right to say they would have skinned him if they knew what was in his pack---skinned him or made him repeat their ‘survival course’. Jack shuddered at the notion. Still, he could not bring himself to part with his treasures, so instead he went to great effort to make sure they remained hidden. To his way of thinking, the objects did serve a purpose in his survival: They kept him sane; they gave him hope. Hope that, if there really were places beyond Dinotopia where scalies were extinct, then maybe Jack would find a way someday to get off this island and go find those places. No matter how Jack tried, he couldn’t imagine a life not spent looking over his shoulder for predators of the human or carnie variety or of being able to go wherever he pleased without killer thunderstorms and razor reef to block his path.

“Don’t you ever wonder, Dayel?” Jack asked.

The older boy raised an eyebrow. “About you being too reckless? Absolutely.”

“No. About…what this music sounds like? About what their cities look like? About off-world?” Imagining the world beyond Dinotopia was Jack’s only real means of escaping his hellish life on the island, even if his obsession bordered on voyeurism. He distracted himself for hours with the most insignificant found object from off-world. It was a pleasant diversion, as long as he didn’t dwell on the circumstances that caused the off-worlder objects to wash up on Dintopia’s shores. He always told himself the treasures fell from passing boats that were not scuttled by the Razor Reef or passing planes that did not perish in the endless thunderstorm. Thief he may be, but he was an extremely superstitious about claiming possession from dearly departed owners. Besides, after fourteen years on this island, he had enough nightmarish images in his brain without conjuring new ones with his imagination.

Dayel grinned a smile that was missing many teeth. “What? Off-world with no scalies? Not ‘wonder’, I dream about it.” His father might not have cared about the world beyond the Razor Reef, but Dayel would have gone to see it if he’d had the chance. He just didn’t torture himself about it or fritter away his days dreaming of journeys he’d never get to take.

“But you’re not even curious about stuff like this?” Jack patted his backpack, indicating the c.d.s inside.

Dayel shrugged. “What good’s a trinket like that do me on this island? Besides, you don’t even know what that thing is.”

“Yes I---” Jack stopped himself. He was wasting his time trying to interest Dayel in anything that didn’t involve drinking, women, brawling or killing scalies. “I hate them sometimes,” Jack confessed.

“Who? The scalie-lovers?”

Jack shook his head. “No, not them. The off-worlders.” Dayel listened, so Jack continued. “Free to go anywhere they want. No scalies chompin’ them. No thunderstorms. No Razor Reef. No G---“

Dayel’s gaze diverted to something behind Jack in warning. Before Jack responded, he felt the backpack savagely ripped from his shoulders. “Hey! What the hell---?!”

He turned and found himself staring into the face of one of the people he least wanted to catch him: Payden Borale. The dark-skinned man stared with a look that chilled Jack’s blood. He picked through the bag for a moment and his frown became a scowl. “Where is the food we sent you to get?”

“The skybax rider---“ Jack began.

Payden had heard that excuse before---too many times. Without a word, he pulled the off-worlder artifacts---including the magazine Frank Scott had given Jack---from the bag and pitched every last one into the surf.

Ashen-faced, Jack watched his treasures wash into the sea. He didn’t dare protest or lift a finger to retrieve them, fearing Payden’s reprisal for disobedience.

Payden could read the temptation in Jack’s stance. “Leave them! I told you to stop being distracted and focus on what’s important, but you never listen. You’re lucky Gabriel didn’t see that!” he scolded. Reluctantly, Jack tore his gaze from his destroyed collection to Borale.

Payden spoke more kindly-which only meant that he growled instead of shouted now. “Listen to me, boy, and do yourself a favor: Forget the off-worlders. Stop idealizing the off-worlders and a life you’ll never have. Stop broodin’ over trinkets and belly-aching over your lot in life. Your stuck. This island is your home. Sooner you learn to accept that, the sooner you’ll see that we’ve not got it so bad here. We don’t have the off-worlders’ wars, their diseases, their obsession with useless rot like you’ve been wastin’ time gathering. You want a life with no scalies hunting you?” Payden drew a bone dagger-sharp as the Razor Reef and still gross with flecks of dried reptile blood. At least, the teenager hoped it was only reptile blood. Jack shrank away from him fearfully, until the large man shoved the blade into the boy’s hand. “This is how you get a life with no scalies. You kill them. Just like we taught you.”

Jack had the sudden urge to cry. Yes, Payden and Gabriel had taught him that for as far back as the teenager could remember. Gabriel taught him to do as he was told without question by simply beating the lessons into him. Payden taught him by chaining him to the traps in the hunting ground, live bait for the T-Rex, shoving a spear into Jack’s hands, and admonishing: “The scalies are coming for you. Kill them or be killed, boy.” When eight-year-old Jack had sulked or cried in fear, Payden and Gabriel hadn’t cared. “The scalies don’t feel pity. Neither do I. And neither will you if you want to survive,” was Gabriel’s excuse. Jack had done as they said from that day on, without question or protest.

Jack was sick of killing the scalies. With new scalies hatching every season, five new T-Rex and pteranodons replaced every carnosaur that Jack’s pack killed. And to think those ridiculous scalie-lovers actually threw festivals celebrating the season when the scalies hatched. Fools! Every scalie the pack killed came at the expense of their own. Jack had lost a friend with every fight with one of the scalies. “This is the most important lesson, boy---the pack comes first. The slow, the sick, the injured…they get left to take their chances w’ the scalies if it comes down to that,” Gabriel said the first time Jack lost one of his friends to a T-Rex. Sometimes, Jack had barely escaped with his own life. He was tired. He was fourteen years old now, but he felt forty sometimes.

“I’ll see to the food. You’re with the hunting parties tonight.” Payden was instructing.

“Why me?” Jack demanded.

Payden grinned. “You didn’t bring back the food as you were told to do. You failed. Don’t let it happen again.” With that, he started walking away.

Dayel clapped Jack on the shoulder. “I’ll go, too.”

Jack called after Payden. “That scalie lover off-worlder messed me up---“

Payden called over his shoulder: “Don’t let that happen again either.”

The blue light ceased its assault on Jack’s mind and senses, taking the images with it until all that remained was the distant sound of a scream. It was slow to occur to him that the scream was his own. Someone was shaking him, and a voice shouted to be heard above the din of Jack’s cry: “Jack!”

The boy opened his eyes, and the first thing Jack saw was the tunic of a skybax rider. The ‘topian had him by the shoulders and was shaking him. Still half-caught in the dream images from the faith stone, Jack struggled and squirmed from the rider’s grasp. He had been lying on a bunk in a tiny room; escaping the rider’s hold, he tumbled to the floor. Jack scrambled on hands and knees across the floor, seeking escape.

“Jack!” the rider barked, catching the boy by his shirt. “It’s all right! It’s me, Karl!”

Jack blinked as the last remnants of the visions washed away and his memory returned. He wasn’t with the pack---he was in the Sanctuary. “Karl?”

“Welcome back, kid,” the blonde grinned, letting go of Jack.

The boy stayed where he was on the floor, still tensed to flee from the nightmarish images of predators, packs, daggers, and blood. He stared at the faith stone. Karl was carefully holding it by its chain, lest the images seize him again. “What was that?” Jack asked.

Karl frowned. “The real world.”

The ‘real world’? As is ‘You’re an Outsider and when we fix the timeline with the freaky space rock, you get to go back to being an Outsider again’? No, that couldn’t be…but the freaky space rock said it was, and Marion said that the freaky space rock could mess with reality, so if it said so, then Jack must be a…

…a thief? An Outsider? A dinosaur killer? So, if the rock said it, it must be so? Jack didn’t care what the rock said.—he was a Scott, Frank’s son, Karl’s brother… “No way,” the boy shook his head. “This is a trick.”

Even as he said it, more memories were trying to bubble to the surface, back into his consciousness. It was all coming back to him now. He relieved every encounter with a carnosaur, every night sleeping in camps and makeshift shelters, every member of his pack, every bushel of food he’d stolen from Earth Farm, every time he ditched the pursuit from Scott and Denison. All these memories overlapped with those of his life as a Scott: plane rides, Dad and Karl’s non-stop butting heads, ditching school to go listen to cds down by the river, summer camp trips that Karl always begged off because he had to work. The memories of these two lives merged, but it was the life of an Outsider on the island and the pack that was making its way to the forefront of Jack’s mind. I’m Jack Barrett. He felt the truth of it while resisting it with everything in his heart, mind, and soul.

Karl wanted nothing more than to be able to say it was. “It’s not a trick, Jack. I wish it were. I wish I---we---had time to convince you, hell, I wish I had time to convince myself, but we don’t. If we don’t change back, Dad’s…”

Jack was scared, hurt, pissed off, and feeling betrayed all at the same time. He glared at Karl accusingly. “Wait---just like that? The space rock says I’m a bad guy, so you ditch me for that Outsider?! I’m your brother!”

Did he really think Karl had any intention of letting that happen? Real world or not, Karl still had that fraternal instinct where this kid was concerned. Besides, he wasn’t a creep who would just abandon the kid. Even if he were, Karl was one hundred percent sure that Frank, Marion, and even David Barrett would never allow it. Jack had been with the Scotts a long time—a lifetime---didn’t he know them by now? “I’m not ditching you, Jack! I’m not sending you back to that psycho Dane,” Karl promised.

“That’s what’ll happen!”

“No, it won’t! You can stay in Waterfall City. I’ll help, so will Dad and Marion and Romana and David…”

“If you guys don’t forget about me! I know how that stone works!”

“I won’t forget,” Karl said resolutely.

Jack rolled his eyes. “You don’t know that! You forgot the ‘real world’…you forgot your ‘real’ brother.”

Ouch. That was low. Karl’s ears went red. “They didn’t forget the carnosaurs that were erased when the timeline was screwed up before---they brought them back.”

“How would they know if they did forget? That’s what ‘forgot’ means! Hello!”

Good point, Karl agreed. “Jack, please, this is Dad’s life at stake.”

I can’t go back, I can’t go back. I don’t care what it cost. “So what? You’re saying he’s not my Dad anyway and you’re not really my brother, what do I care?”

“You don’t mean that!” Karl gaped.

Jack hesitated. Did he mean it? No, he didn’t. Not really. Frank had been decent to him in both realities…was the only person in the ‘real’ timeline who the boy trusted. But this…this was too much. “No. I don’t.” Jack closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against his hands, collecting his thoughts. One thought dominated: I won’t go back. He opened one eye, staring at the faith stone. “Can I see it again?” Jack held out his hand for the stone. “Please?”

If it would help, if Jack had to see more to believe, Karl would have to let him, time to spare or not. He passed the meteorite to the boy. Jack paused only briefly before grasping the stone firmly in his palm. Blue light flared at once, enveloping the boy. He passed out almost at once, and Karl hurried to catch Jack before he hit his head on the ground. The kid was deadweight; Karl lugged him back to the bunk and deposited him gently there. He carefully took hold of the faith stone’s chain and removed it from Jack’s grip, setting it aside on the table. The light winked out, leaving the room dark and silent.

Karl tried waking Jack, but the boy wouldn’t be roused. Marion had said that each time the stone was used, it would take a bit longer to wake up, so Karl shouldn’t worry. Still, Karl would feel better if Marion had a look at Jack, just to make sure the kid wasn’t having any ill-effect from all this contact with the space rock. She could use her empathy to bring him around. Maybe she’d know something to say to calm him down, because Karl sure was botching the job.

Leaving the boy sleeping, Karl went in search of the matriarch’s daughter.

Jack Barrett emerged from the Temple of the Falls, the box with Marion’s sunstone medallion in one hand, the Tohma Faiere hanging by a chain around his neck. The special smoke bomb he’d made of the forest’s narcotic plants would have Noree and the other guards out cold for another five minutes. Jack planned to be out of Waterfall City before they woke. Stealing the meteorites had been so easy that he was nearly embarrassed for its saurian Keeper, who had practically handed the faith stone to the outsider in her eagerness to share its ‘gift’ and convert the nonbeliever.

Taking the ‘faith stone’ had been a crime of opportunity. He thought he might be able to trade it for food or shelter for the pack later. Jack knew the stories about the Tohma Faiere and its supposed powers even before eager-beaver Noree started telling him about it in the Temple; personally, he didn’t buy a word of it. But, what he believed wasn’t important---all that mattered was that the little blue rock was going to buy his way back into Payden Borale and Gabriel Dane’s good graces.

He’d reached the top of the long staircase that paralleled the waterfall and just thought himself in the clear when he’d seen two of the three people he’d most wanted to avoid while in the city: Karl and David Scott. They were the off-worlder friends of the matriarch’s daughter, Marion. Worse, David Scott was one of those do-gooder skybax riders. Jack didn’t want to be caught with the two ‘topian trinkets in his possession, especially not by those guys. Luckily, they were preoccupied with their own quarreling and hadn’t noticed Jack as he emerged from the stairway. Karl was chasing a baby casmasaur through the marketplace, yelling back at the dark-haired skybax rider following him. Everyone’s attention was on them, so no one spared Jack a glance. Lucky break.

Jack watched them go, shaking his head. If he’d been lucky enough to be raised a ‘topian and been the best friend of that pretty Marion instead of growing up in Gabriel’s pack, he might not be reduced to stealing space rocks and old ‘topian artifacts to survive. He might be a skybax rider even. For just a fleeting second, Jack had entertained the possibilities of what his life would have been like if could trade places with one of the Scotts...

Dayel’s voice, chastising Jack for such notions, echoed in the boy’s mind for a minute. Dayel would have never gone along with such a hair-brained plan as stealing Marion Waldo’s medallion…

…but Dayel wasn’t there any more, Jack remembered bitterly. Not since the hunting party Payden had sent him and Jack to join had run afoul of the pteranodons only a few days ago. The pain of losing his friend was still too new and raw. Jack pushed it out of his mind and focused on getting out of Waterfall City with his treasure.

The blue-hued visions shifted again, like a movie camera changing angles. Jack saw Alano—the traitor from Le Sage’s pack, the outcast Outsider---in his brown skybax rider uniform flying into Waterfall City on Pterra’s back. Alano landed his own pterosaur beside Freefall. Freefall whuffed a greeting that sounded distinctly annoyed. “Mornin’ beastie---where’s the slugabed?” Alano scanned the vicinity of Flippeau’s home, where the Scotts usually bunked when they were in Waterfall City. He didn’t have to look far to see that the Scott brothers were nearby…and in the middle of another spectacular row. David didn’t even see the pterosaurs and Alano waiting for him, caught up in his fight with Karl as he was.

“Ah, bugger. Looks like we’re going to be late for duty again. Oonu will have us flying the skut patrols. Romana will kill David. Evan will kill me. What do you suppose it’s about this time, eh?”

Then came the angry shout: “Thief!”

Jack heard the shout from the stairway---the cry of the saurian Keeper he’d thought he’d knocked out---and cringed. The shout drew the attention of everyone in the vicinity of the stairs…including the Scotts. David spotted Jack first, saw the sacred box clutched in Jack’s hand, and his face darkened when he recognized the outsider as a frequent customer at Frank’s tavern. Frank liked the young outsider, despite David’s reservations about him because…well, because of worrying about things like him ripping off a ‘topian temple, Jack supposed.

The Scotts advanced, blocking the street in front of Jack; Noree was climbing the stairs, blocking an escape to the rear. Alano, burly and nasty-looking, wasn’t far behind the Scotts. Saurian guards could be heard drawing closer, booming orders for the crowd to clear a path for them. There was only one escape route available if Jack didn’t want to jump off the bridge and go over the falls (and he didn’t). He climbed over the merchants’ tables, spilling their contents as he ran from tabletop to tabletop. His pursuers were only briefly hindered by the crowd.

Jack didn’t get far. Reaching the end of the row of tables, he leaped to the ground. He rounded a corner and was nearly plowed over by a cart laden with bushels of produce. Jack skidded to a stop only just in time, but the delay was all the Scotts needed. Something, someone, slammed into Jack hard and knocked him into a booth loaded with baskets and woven throw rugs. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the bronze-orange tunic of a scalie-rider on his way down. The collision knocked the wind out of him. Jack kicked and punched with one hand, still holding the box with his other, trying to escape the skybax rider.

“Jack, you little…” David tried wrestling the box with the sunstone medallion---Marion’s medallion--- out of the outsider’s grip. “I should have….”

“Sorry, but a man’s got to look out for himself.” Jack drew a bone dagger from his coat and was about to stab at the scalie rider with it when Karl arrived. The younger Scott brother spotted the danger and pounced, tearing the blade from Jack’s hand. Two against one were too crappy of odds for the outsider. He dropped the box. It opened upon impact with the stone street, and the sunstone medallion tumbled out.

Karl grabbed it. He held the pendant up so that David could see it as well. “Now, this doesn’t belong to you, Jack.”

“I was jus’ borrowing it,” Jack insisted.

David caught the outsider by the collar. “Then you can just take it ba---what is that?” His fingers had found the chain around Jack’s neck. A piece of meteorite with a broken gold setting dangled from the cord. David could read saurian well enough to know the inscriptions in the saurian footprint language were ancient, some sort of prayer or something. “Where did you get this?”

Karl pocketed the sunstone and moved for a closer look at the blue stone around Jack’s neck. “I’ll bet this doesn’t belong to you, either.”

“It’s mine! I found it fair and square!” Jack whined.

Karl could read the saurian language only marginally better than he spoke it…which was to say, not well at all. “What does this say?” Karl pointed at the inscriptions, directing the question at his brother.

Even David, almost fluent in the language, had to work to puzzle out the complicated inscription: “It’s a prayer of some kind. Tohma Faiere…that means ‘faith stone’…anghara pharneilos…”

Jack tried to tug the pendant out of their hands. “I said, it’s mine!”

“…tharmha tohma faiere…”

Three pairs of hands grasped the meteorite at the same time as the stone began to glow a brilliant blue…

I’m Jack Barrett.

I won’t go back…

This time, Jack ignored the sensation of being shaken, ignored Karl’s voice. The boy lay, unmoving, on the bunk even as the images faded and lucidity returned to him. He pretended to still be out cold. Karl must have fallen for it, because Jack heard his footsteps move away from the bunk. Seconds later, the footsteps left the small room and Karl’s voice, calling for Marion, moved down the hallway.

Jack opened his eyes now.

So, the Scotts were going to ditch him, just like that? They were no better than the pack…well, two---no, three—could play at that game. I’m not going back to Dane and Payden.

Jack acted the second Karl was gone. The boy sprang from the bed and ran to the door, slamming it shut. Then, he dragged the heavy bunk, using strength born of adrenaline and fear, until it blocked the doorway. Not even a saurian guard could force that door open now. And if they couldn’t get inside, they couldn’t make Jack go back.

Still, Jack would need to take precautions, on the off chance the ‘topians did manage to get into the room. He glanced at the inert stone lying on the table. That stone was the real threat---just like the T-Rex and pteranodons. Well, thanks to that damn rock, Jack remembered how to deal with a threat: Destroy it first.

Jack looked around the room. There wasn’t much to use in the chamber, but there was a small statue of a dino-human sentinel set into a nook in the wall. That’ll work. Resolved, the boy picked up the statue and carried it over to the table where the faith stone lay. That’ll work just fine…

*

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