Oasis Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  A Word frim Dinotopia Creator James Gurney

  Map

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Visit the Exciting World of Dinotopia

  Look for these other Dinotopia titles

  “Hello?” he called.

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  For James Gurney, whose imagination, artistry, and sense of wonder brought Dinotopia to life for all of us. And for Alice, Jim, and Diane at Random House for all your help and support.

  —CH

  The publisher's special thanks

  to James Gurney

  and Dr. Michael Brett-Surman,

  project advisor on paleontology.

  A WORD FROM DINOTOPIA® CREATOR JAMES GURNEY

  Dinotopia began as a series of large oil paintings of lost cities. One showed a city built in the heart of a waterfall. Another depicted a parade of people and dinosaurs in a Roman-style street. It occurred to me that all these cities could exist on one island. So I sketched a map, came up with a name, and began to develop the story of a father and son shipwrecked on the shores of that island. Dinotopia, which I wrote and illustrated, was published in 1992.

  The surprise for me was how many readers embraced the vision of a land where humans lived peacefully alongside intelligent dinosaurs. Many of those readers spontaneously wrote music, performed dances, and even made tree house models out of gingerbread.

  A sandbox is much more fun if you share it with others. With that in mind, I invited a few highly respected authors to join me in exploring Dinotopia. The mandate for them was to embellish the known parts of the world before heading off on their own to discover new characters and new places. Working closely with them has been a great inspiration to me. I hope you, too, will enjoy the journey.

  James Gurney

  CHAPTER 1

  “Aaaaaaaieeeeeeeee!”

  Startled by the sudden noise, Jack Hardwick glanced up from his book. Why did something always seem to interrupt him just when he was really enjoying himself?

  He was reading, or at least trying to read, a travelogue called Plant Hunters of the Polongo Basin, written by a distinguished Dryosaurus botanist and illustrated by the saurian's human partner and scribe. Jack had been looking forward to diving into the book ever since the previous week's caravan had dropped it off. That was why he'd chosen this spot for reading—the quiet garden surrounding the town's huge stone sundial. And now, just as he was getting involved in the author's vivid description of his discovery of Dinotopia's largest known specimen of Platycerium bifurcatum—

  “Aaaaaaaieeeeeeeee!”

  The sound, loud and irritating, came again. Jack squinted against the white-hot desert sun, looking for the source of the interruption. A tall, lanky boy with a head full of wild, dark curls raced into sight, laughing out loud as he glanced over his shoulder.

  Ty Ferris, thought Jack. Of course.

  With a sigh, Jack leaned back against the base of the sundial and adjusted his broad-brimmed woven hat. Ty was twelve years old, the same age as Jack, and both of them had lived in the tiny desert town of Dribbling Spring since they'd been born.

  In this isolated community with barely more than two hundred inhabitants, everyone knew everyone else. But even if their town had been much, much larger, everyone would have known Ty Ferris. He was always talking, moving, laughing, and joking around. And he was always the center of attention.

  Ty let out another high-pitched yell; then he leaned his hands on his knees to catch his breath. That's when Jack noticed that Ty was holding a small, brightly painted wooden ball. After a moment Ty stood up.

  “Ty-ball-Ty-ball-Ty-ball!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

  Whoops and hollers answered his call. Then half a dozen kids, ages seven to fourteen, stampeded around the corner of the nearby Dribbling Spring Water Bar, their sandals kicking up the ever-present reddish dust that covered every surface in the desert town.

  “Ugh,” Jack muttered softly to himself, realizing that his quiet afternoon had just been invaded by an active game of Ty-ball.

  Named after its inventor and most enthusiastic participant, the game was generally loud, raucous, and lengthy. Jack himself had never bothered to learn the many intricate rules of Ty-ball. As far as he could tell, it seemed to involve a lot of running and shouting. There seemed to be two teams and one leader, who tried to keep the ball away from both teams. The games often went on for two or three days at a time. Parents had been known to drag players away long enough for meals, chores, and sleep.

  Not Jack's parents, though. Jack had never had the slightest interest in Ty-ball or, for that matter, in any of the games his peers played.

  How can they waste so much time on something so silly? Jack often wondered. As it was, he felt he never had enough time to read and learn. And there were so many subjects to explore—botany, astronomy, geology, history . . . and, of course, dinosaurs.

  Jack glanced down at the cover of his book, which featured a drawing of the author. He had never even met a Dryosaurus in real life. Not many saurians were willing to endure the hardships of living in the Great Desert region of Dinotopia. The climate was harsh, and the area lacked water to drink and foliage to eat. In total, Dribbling Spring had only about a dozen full-time saurian residents. They lived on the produce from the town's only farm, along with vegetation and fish that the caravans brought from other parts of the island.

  Other than these few neighbors, the only dinosaurs Jack ever saw were those who traveled with the caravans that passed through town every couple of weeks on their way from Prosperine, Pteros, and other northern outposts to the city of Meeramu and back again.

  Well, except for that one time . . . , Jack thought wistfully, flashing back to his only trip outside of Dribbling Spring.

  When Jack was seven, he and his parents had traveled to a major farming conference in Waterfall City. Jack still remembered every detail.

  He remembered riding behind his father on the back of a powerful, friendly, intelligent Baryonyx who had told thrilling stories about his travels throughout Dinotopia. He remembered the difficult terrain of the road skirting the Forbidden Mountains at the edge of the Blackwood Flats. He remembered spotting the gleaming monuments of Sauropolis in the distance as his group headed north toward the Great Canal. He remembered their breathtaking entry into Waterfall City on a glider.

  Most of all, he remembered the vast variety of knowledge in Waterfall City itself. Even at seven, Jack had been curious about everything. He had spent one afternoon following a wizened old Scutellosaurus around the central library, viewing the city's vast collection of seeds and spores.

  He had stared in fascination at the One-Earth Globe, which showed the world as it had looked more than one hundred million years ago. He had even learned to swim from a knowledgeable and patient human marine biologist, who had then showed him some of the wonders of the underwater world.

  Jack sighed at the familiar memories. That trip had only made him more eager to see interesting sights, explore interesting places, and meet interesting people and dinosaurs. With his thirteenth birthday only a couple of months away, Jack had hoped that perhaps his family would take another trip to celebrate—maybe travel to faraway Treetown or Volcaneum, or even to the relatively close but
still exotic Meeramu.

  However, he had no sooner brought up the idea than his parents had sadly told him that it would be impossible. They ran the town's only Aepycamelus stable, which was a time-consuming and indispensable job in a caravaners' outpost like Dribbling Spring.

  The lanky, sure-footed, ten-foot-tall Aepycamelus were one of the main methods of transportation in the Great Desert. The caravaners counted on the services the Hardwicks provided, which included stabling, feeding, and watering their Aepycamelus during stopovers as well as providing fresh animals who could take over for overtired ones.

  “We're sorry, son,” Jack's father had told him gently. “We really wish we could take you someplace for your birthday. But I'm afraid there's just no way your mother and I can get away for that long.”

  Jack understood that his parents' work was important. Still, their unrelenting schedule meant that he would have to wait until he was old enough to travel on his own—

  “Hey!” he blurted out, jolted from his thoughts by a sudden pinch on his left shoulder.

  Wincing, he glanced over, hoping he hadn't just been stung by a biting fly. The bites didn't hurt much at first, but once they swelled up and started to itch—

  “Ow!” he exclaimed as the pinching sensation came again, on his right shoulder this time. “You stupid bug . . .”

  A burst of laughter erupted from somewhere just overhead. Jack twisted around and saw the grinning face of Ty Ferris.

  “Gotcha!” Ty cried, easily leaping down from the three-foot stone platform that held the sundial. “Buzz, buzzzz, I'm Ty the fly, and I'm coming to get—”

  “What do you want?” Jack snapped.

  Ty tossed the ball he was holding from one hand to the other. “You sure know how to blend in with the scenery, Hardwick. For a second there I thought you were just another spiny, blobby plant growing by the sundial.” He gestured at the nearest cluster of succulents.

  “Euphorbia horrida.” Jack automatically identified the plant's genus and species as he got to his feet. He was a couple inches shorter than Ty, and looking up at him forced him to squint against the low-hanging sun. “And I was just reading.”

  “You're always ‘just reading,'” Ty said. “How about having some fun instead? Mara had to go home, so we're a player short. Want to take her place? You can be the starting chaser for your team.”

  Jack frowned slightly. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  He glanced over at the other kids, who were huddled around the public well at the far end of the garden, dipping cups into the cool water. Everyone in Dribbling Spring learned from an early age that it was important to stop to drink often, no matter what one was doing. Staying hydrated was important everywhere, but in the harsh, relentlessly dry climate of the Great Desert it could be a matter of life and death.

  “Aw, come on,” Ty wheedled, still smiling. “You know you want to play. You're probably pretty strong from shoveling all that Aepycamelus dung over at your folks' stable. And you look pretty fast. I bet you'd be outstanding at Ty-ball if you just gave it a chance. So how come you've never tried it?”

  “I don't really see the point,” Jack replied, surprised that Ty had noticed his lack of interest. “Running around after a ball doesn't accomplish anything except making you hot and sweaty.”

  Ty looked startled, and Jack realized he'd been rather blunt in his answer. Still, the other boy had asked, hadn't he?

  Suddenly Ty's expression cleared and he burst out laughing. “Oh, I get it!” he exclaimed cheerfully. “That was a joke, right? You're just kidding around with me. Good one!”

  “No, I wasn't joking.” Jack blinked, startled at Ty's reaction. Didn't he take anything seriously? “I truly don't get it. Why do you waste so much time goofing around when there are so many more interesting things to do?”

  Ty stopped laughing. “Like what? Sitting around reading about plants and rocks and bugs and stars like you do all the time?”

  Jack wondered why Ty seemed to know so much about his choice of reading material. Then he remembered that Ty's parents and older sister ran the Dribbling Spring Exchange, where the town's citizens made requests for any items they needed that couldn't be provided locally. The Ferrises arranged for the caravaners to bring those items in from Meeramu or one of the other towns. Jack was at the Exchange almost every week requesting new books and scrolls.

  Before he could come up with a response to Ty's comment, a shout came from the other kids, who were still gathered near the well.

  “Caravan ho!” a boy yelled, pointing toward the northeastern horizon just beyond the garden. “A caravan is almost here!”

  CHAPTER 2

  Caravan! Jack jumped to his feet, barely pausing to tuck his book into his tunic pocket. A caravan, today? he thought. This is a surprise.

  Dribbling Spring was one of the only outposts on the only road in the central part of the desert. Most travelers took the easier and more scenic coastal road skirting the Great Desert's eastern edge, which meant that the townspeople of Dribbling Spring were lucky if they saw a caravan every couple of weeks.

  “Come on!” Ty cried excitedly. “Let's go check it out!” He took off, with his fellow Ty-ball players racing behind him.

  Jack hurried after them. The caravan had just pulled up to the enormous canopy hung from several tall ginkgo trees. The bright yellow-and-red-striped fabric had been faded by the desert sun, but the shade it provided was a welcome sight to tired, thirsty travelers.

  The caravan consisted of about a dozen Aepycamelus, a slightly smaller number of humans, and a couple of saurians—including one familiar-looking Pinacosaurus.

  “Cragnog!” Jack exclaimed, rushing forward eagerly.

  Cragnog looked up at the sound of his name. The respected saurian botanist, one of the island's leading experts in the flora of the southeastern region, was nearly twenty feet long from the tip of his parrot-like beak to the end of his strong, clubbed tail. His wise old face was just about the only part of him not adorned with the bony spikes that lined his armored back and tail. His kind, intelligent eyes looked tired, and his rough brown-and-yellow skin was coated with a layer of fine yellow sand and gritty dust.

  “Greetings, my young friend.” Cragnog's words were squawky and sounded almost garbled to Jack's ears, but like most Dinotopians, Jack had been taught to understand dinosaur speech almost as easily as human speech. “It is good to see you. And it is good to find this spot of shade. I'm getting too old for these blasted desert expeditions.”

  “Nonsense,” Jack protested with a smile. Cragnog had been complaining that way for as long as he'd known him, but Jack knew that his friend loved his plant-hunting expeditions and the opportunities to meet with other scientists. “But wait here and rest, and I'll fetch you some water.”

  As Jack grabbed a large, empty water gourd from the pile at one corner of the shady area, he spotted his parents hurrying toward the lead Aepycamelus and its rider. Word of the caravan's arrival was spreading fast, and other townspeople appeared from all directions.

  While waiting his turn at the nearest well, Jack overheard the mayor of Dribbling Spring, Rosita Manning, talking with one of the human caravaners.

  “My apologies for not having food and water ready to greet your caravan,” she told him. “But we weren't expecting you this week.”

  The man responded with a respectful bow. “It was not in our original plans to stop here at this time,” he said. “The apologies are all ours for taking your good town by surprise.”

  Jack filled the gourd as full as he could carry it. Hoisting it onto his shoulders by the attached hide strap, he lugged it back over to where Cragnog was waiting. Then he carefully poured the cool, clean water into one of the carved stone troughs that lined the shaded area. Cragnog drank deeply and then stepped back, his eyes closed and his body relaxed.

  “Moon to stars, Jack,” he said. “That drink was most welcome. It has been a long journey. The Great Desert can humble even the most experienced trave
ler.”

  “What happened?” Jack asked. “I heard you weren't planning to stop here.”

  The saurian opened his eyes and nodded. “We encountered our first sandstorm within half a day's journey out of Kuskonak, and the weather has been unpredictable ever since—much wind for this time of year,” Cragnog explained. “That is why we decided to bear west and take the central route for the remainder of the journey. We are hoping to avoid the worst of the sandstorms between here and Meeramu.”

  “Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you're here,” Jack said. He glanced over at his parents. They were deep in conversation with the caravan's leader, a burly, bearded man named Garrison who had been born and raised in Dribbling Spring, just like Jack.

  But he managed to get out, Jack thought, his gaze lingering on the caravaner for a moment. How many journeys had Garrison made in his life? How many interesting places and things had he seen?

  As Jack turned away, he noticed the caravan's other saurian member resting nearby. From his reading, Jack recognized the crested, duck-billed saurian as a Hypacrosaurus.

  Cragnog followed his gaze. “That is Luna,” he said. “She is a famed cartographer. It is she who first mapped the ruins of the Wild Canyon Gardens west of Hardshell. She has accompanied more desert treks than the sky has stars. I will introduce you later if you like.”

  “Thank you. I would like that very much,” Jack said. He hoped the caravaners would stay for a few extra days. Cragnog and Jack's other saurian friends always seemed to pass through before he had the chance to really talk with them.

  For a moment, Jack wished another sandstorm would come and delay them. But the thought was fleeting. For one thing, Dribbling Spring was protected by several large, rocky outcroppings that broke up the winds before they could form storms near the town. And for another, Jack knew that a serious sandstorm was nothing to trifle with.

  “Yee-hah! Sandstorm!”

  The shout interrupted Jack's thoughts. A group of village kids were clustered around several of the caravaners. Ty was right in the middle, playfully trickling a handful of sand down the back of another boy's tunic. The boy jumped away, and the whole group laughed.