Thirteen
I thought the egg-shaped reptiscillan transporters were fast, but they were nothing compared to the speed Ryn manages to make the magic carpet fly at. If he hadn’t put a shield over it, the wind would have swept us away long ago. Ryn sits up front, neither looking back nor speaking to anyone. The other three members of his team chat quietly to each other, and Jamon—biggest guardian-hater of all time—joins in, telling them about the mountain we’ve taken refuge in.
Not long after the sun rises, we’re zooming high above grassy fields and shooting toward a valley in the distance. We slow down as we reach it. Just as we sail over the rim, a bright orange light flashes and fizzles around us, then disappears.
“What was that?” I ask in alarm, getting onto my knees and looking over the
