A streak of blue flashed across the rutted path and disappeared into a cluster of thorny bushes. Leaves the color and size of silver thimbles burst from the plants and scattered in the breeze, making a sound like tinkling bells.

"There!" Gabby scrambled forward, stopping short of toppling onto the spiky branches that hid what she hunted for. "Did you see it? It went in there. Shya, run to the other side and block its escape."

The Shya'ling, a winged companion that had befriended Gabby's family over a century ago, hovered at her side. "That will do no good, mistress. We have already tried --"

"So we'll try again!" Gabby thrust her gloved hand into a narrow opening between the branches, then quickly snatched it back. The ripped sleeve of her green tunic slipped aside, the long, jagged scratch from a thorn already starting to bleed. "Vetta's ghost!"

"No need to swear," Shya said calmly. "We will catch it. We came close, twice. But a Jakkaryl is not easily tricked."

Gabby cradled her arm against her chest and plopped down onto the prickly grass beside the bush. No, the Jakkaryl would not be caught with ease. It was a cunning creature, no larger than a kitchen rat, but far faster on its two legs than a rodent with four.

"There's so little time left, Shya. The sun-star will reach its zenith in less than two shadow's time. If I don't take the Jakkaryl to King Uln by then, my brother will --" She couldn't finish. Saying the words would make the threat to Galen's life even more real.

S hya perched beside her. He folded his great wings, the green and gold pattern of feathers and scales shimmering in the daylight. Though only half Gabby’s height when standing, his large, beaked head came even with hers as she sat hunched over her bent knees. Her torn britches exposed scrapes and bruises with three days worth of dirt crusting over the scabs.

"I've failed, Shya," Gabby muttered into her knees. "My brother's as good as dead."
A ruff of feathers rose like hackles from the back of Shya's neck. He grunted. "I have never known you to give up."

She lifted her head to stare at him. "What haven't I tried? The Jakkaryl can’t be caught. King Uln knew that, yet he sent me on this doomed quest just the same. No one, royal or peasant, man or woman, has ever succeeded in capturing one of the creatures. I'd have thought they didn't exist had I not seen one for myself."

Only yesterday, the second day of her journey, did Gabby see the elusive Jakkaryl for the first time. It stood on the trail, watching her and Shya, seemingly unafraid as it cocked its blue head to study them. The tiny creature appeared more human than animal. Its lithe body was covered with downy blue fur, the pink eyes set wide apart on an ivory face that crinkled a hairless brow in bemused curiosity.

Shya had immediately recognized it. Several hundred Shya'ling once lived here, in Otherealm, over a thousand years ago, before the land began shrinking and they were forced to flee through the dimensional gateway into Gabby's world. Less than a dozen of the Shya'ling existed today. Gabby guessed it must be the same with the Jakkaryl.

"Is it true, Shya, that the Jakkaryl will grant a wish to its captor in exchange for its freedom?"

Shya shook his head. "I cannot say, but I think that is only a rumor. My kind never had need to catch a Jakkaryl when we lived in Otherealm. Stories told by my ancestors say they were rare even then, and no one has ever seen more than one at a time."

Gabby scowled, disheartened by this news. "The king's mage insists that it grants wishes. He says the king will have unlimited wealth and power once in possession of a Jakkaryl. That's why King Uln sent me here. But if the legend is a lie, and the king's wish cannot be granted, Galen will be killed anyway. And more than likely, so will I."

Shya clacked his beaked mouth, appearing pensive. "Do not underestimate the knowledge and power of a mage. They visited Otherealm often when the land was whole and flourishing with magic. I hold them responsible for causing my world to shrink to the few miles that are left. Mages have been draining off its magic for centuries. Soon there will be nothing left." He cocked his scaled head, his oval eyes glittering like purple crystals. "Who knows what the king's mage really wants with the Jakkaryl?"

Gabby stood and brushed the crushed, silver leaves off her tattered britches. "Well, whatever the creature's purpose, I need it for the ransom I must pay for Galen's life."

"If the legend is true, perhaps once caught, the Jakkaryl will grant you a wish; a wish for your brother's life and his freedom."

"I already thought of that, and so had the king." Gabby peered into the bushes, struggling to catch sight of the blue-furred pixie. Her chat with Shya renewed her resolve. She'd not give up her search just yet. Her younger brother's life meant too much and he was all the family she had left. "If I used the wish, King Uln's mage would sense the Jakkaryl's magic and Galen would be executed."

As Gabby circled the thorn bush, Shya ambled up behind her. "So why does the mage not come here to capture the Jakkaryl himself?"

Gabby turned to glower down at him. "For Vetta's sake, Shya, you know why!"

Startled, the Shya'ling leapt back, his wings flung out for balance.

"Only by wing of a Shya'ling can the gateway to Otherealm be crossed. Your fellow creatures would rather die than serve a mage." Her tone softened when she saw the hurt in Shya's faceted eyes. "I've been here three days, Shya, and we have less than two shadow's time to catch this thing. Will you help me or not?"

"I have been helping you," Shya said, his voice edged with a whine. "You would not have known what a Jakkaryl looked like if not for me."

"You're right." She smiled and knelt before him, her eyes even with his. She reached out to smooth the ruffled feathers and scales along his neck. Shya was the best friend she had, and nearly as close to her as Galen. The winged beast had stayed with her family for generations, keeping watch over them, protecting them from harm as best he could.

But Shya couldn't stop the fever that had overtaken almost everyone in Gabby’s village five years ago, her parents and grandparents included. Only fifteen years old at the time, Gabby and her brother had barely survived the sickness. She realized that saving Galen meant as much to Shya as it did to her. "Please forgive me, Shya. My failure in catching the Jakkaryl has shortened my temper. I don't mean to take it out on you."

"I understand, mistress." He dipped his head and rubbed his silky feathers against her cheek. She scratched the horn-like scales that surrounded his ears. They shouldn't be at odds, especially not now, when their need for each other was so great.

"Are you hungry, mistress?" Shya asked with enthusiasm. "There are still some rations left in your pack. I will fetch them for you." He turned and hopped toward the crumpled leather pack she'd dropped at the side of the trail.

Gabby sighed as she again searched the thick branches of the bush. The Jakkaryl was probably still in there, hiding, watching. How odd that whenever chased, it never went very far. The moment she'd think it had vanished, it would pop out from behind a rock or a tree, then scamper to a new hiding place, as if taunting her into another pursuit. She had grown tired of its games, and now she grew hungry as well.

"I suppose taking a little time to fill my belly won't make much difference," she said, glancing up at the fruit-laden trees bordering the trail. "I just wish I could eat some of what grows here."
"You can," Shya said, his words muffled as his beak poked its way into the near-empty pack. "But it will do you no good. No matter how much you ate, you would never become full."

Shya was right. Though plentiful with fruits and vegetables, edible roots and seeds, not one ounce of nutrition could be found in the food grown in Otherealm. At least not for anyone in Gabby's world. From the ancient Book of Otherealm -- required reading in the village school -- Gabby had learned that nothing here could nourish someone who wasn’t native to the land. The food tasted rich and sweet, yet one would starve if left to dine solely on the phantom resources here. But Shya thrived on Otherealm's bounty. He made daily journeys through the gateway to feast because without the food here, he would die.

"I found some strips of dried Yoma meat, mistress, and a satchel of what remains of the Bethoma berries." Shya clutched the leathery meat in his talons, the satchel dangling from his hooked beak. He half-hopped, half-flew to where Gabby sat beneath an enormous tree heavy with fruit. He dropped his burden at her feet before picking through a pile of fallen orange orbs, searching for one that wasn't bruised.

Gabby removed her gloves and gnawed on a meat strip. She began to idly hum a tune her mother had often played on her reed-flute, then quickly stopped herself. Legend said that music would make a Jakkaryl flee faster than shooing one away.

Shya jerked his head up and stared at her quizzically. "Why do you halt the tune that vibrates from your throat? I wish I could sing, and would love to hear it from you."
"I don't want to frighten the Jakkaryl."

Shya grunted and returned to pecking at the fruit he had found. "Another tall tale, I suspect. It appears your people's Book of Otherealm is full of them."

Gabby considered what he said of the great book. Most of its writings were laws of behavior that focused on what not to do in Otherealm. No one had ever proved them false, or true for that matter. She guessed few had tested the laws because breaking them could cause harm, or even death, to whoever took the risk. She had visited Otherealm only twice before, feeling too nervous both times to remain more than a single shadow's time. She had wanted to explore the magical land, to venture through the strange forests of purple trees, to spy upon the odd-looking animals that grazed on blue-grassed plains, to wade through streams of silver water that glittered beneath Otherealm's cloudless sky. But she'd been too afraid to stay. Finally here again, she found no joy in the wonders around her.

"Tell me, Shya," Gabby began, feeling more suspicious than ever about the truth of Otherealm. She poured the remaining Bethoma berries into her palm and tossed one in her mouth. While chewing, she asked, "What will happen when Otherealm is gone?"

Shya didn't look up as he pulled a juicy segment from the peeled fruit and slurped it down. "I suppose the Shya'ling will slowly starve and cease to exist. The Jakkaryl are doomed to vanish as well, as will all the inhabitants here." He bent his long neck to wipe his beak on the grassy ground, then glanced up at the lavender sky, where Otherealm's sun-star hung almost centered above them. "The Shya'ling are peaceful beasts who have harmed no one in your world. I only hope you remember us after we are gone."

Gabby felt a rush of anger at the selfish king who conspired to destroy an innocent land for personal gain. Once the mages used up the magic of Otherealm, would magic be gone for good? Would the extinction of the mages' source of power weaken the king's rule over his people? Only then might her village find the strength to rise against King Uln and his army of soon-to-be impotent sorcerers. But the price of freedom would be great; a magical world must die in order for her people to find relief from tyranny.

Gabby stood and stomped her foot on the ground, causing the thorn bush's branches to quake. As the leaves rustled with bell-like song, her voice rose above it. "Why has it come to this, Shya? Why did the Shya'ling not attack the mages of my world?"

"I told you, mistress," a puzzled Shya began, the scaled horns on his head arching like human brows. "We are peaceful creatures. It is not in our nature to --"

"But your passiveness is destroying your own world! Had the Shya'ling fought to overpower the mages, our two worlds could have coexisted in harmony." Gabby grabbed a branch from the bush, paying no heed to the thorns that pierced her scarred and calloused hand. "Somewhere in here hides the key to ending our problem. If I catch the Jakkaryl and free my brother, I allow King Uln to make a wish that will undoubtedly keep my people in cruel servitude forever. Is that fair?"

Without waiting for an answer, Gabby dropped to her knees, clutching Shya's wings in a desperate embrace. "Help me, Shya! Tell me what to do." She buried her face against him.
Shya combed his beak through the tangles of Gabby's yellow, short-cropped hair, freeing the silver leaves that had caught there. "Oh, mistress. I cannot make the choice for you. It appears no good will come of any decision made. Ignore the king's command, and young Galen dies, while King Uln continues his reign as before. Fulfill your quest, and provide the king with great power that ensures your people's oppression for years to come. Either way, the destiny of Otherealm does not change. My world cannot survive as long as there are mages to siphon off its magic."

Shya's words made sense, but they provided no comfort. "So whatever I decide, the outcome remains the same."

"Yes."

There were limits to what she was willing to sacrifice, and giving up her brother's life would only be in vain. "Then saving Galen's life is my best choice."

Shya said nothing. He moved away from her and trudged slowly back to the pack laying beside the trail. He prodded the opening with his talons and poked his beak inside.

She had once again hurt the feelings of her winged friend. His kind was indeed gentle in nature, and it was far too late to instigate a revolt against the mages now. An attack might have worked several centuries ago, when the Shya'ling were strong in number. Too many had perished over the centuries, usually at the hands of mages who used their feathers and scales for potions and spells. The remaining few hid in caves or took refuge in the dense forests surrounding Gabby's village. Like guardian angels, they secretly brought pilfered food to starving villagers and stole medicine from King Uln's healers to give to the sick. The Shya'ling could safely return to Otherealm now, as their population dwindled to accommodate their shrinking world, but they chose not to. Instead they devoted themselves to helping the unfortunate souls of Gabby's village. Out of instinct or conscience, the Shya'ling would not turn their backs on the helpless.

"What do you have there, Shya?" Gabby asked, when she saw something clutched in the animal’s beak.

He gently pulled it free with his talons. It was her mother's reed-flute. "I thought this might bring you comfort, mistress." He peered up at the sky, then hung his head low, wagging it slowly. "I fear time has run out; the sun-star is at its zenith. Perhaps a song will lighten your heart."

Gabby's belly felt suddenly weighted, as if what little food she'd eaten had swelled and would soon climb back up her throat. Poor Galen. She had failed her mission and his death was on her head. She pushed the flute away. It dropped to the ground and rolled beneath the thorn bush.

"All is lost, Shya." Gabby's eyes filled and she wiped at the tear dripping down her cheek. "I'm responsible for my brother's death."

"You do not know he is dead, mistress. Perhaps --" Shya cut himself short, jerking his head at the thorn bush. He frowned and said, "Look."

Gabby swiveled her tear-glazed eyes toward the bush. The flute rolled out from beneath it, stopped, then rolled closer until it rested at her feet. She stared at it dumbly.

"Take it," Shya said.

"But --"

"I think someone wants to hear a song."

"The Jakkaryl? I thought they hate music."

Shya clacked his beak. "It is worth a try. What have you to lose?"

Gabby heard the truth in his words. Why not play? Her time was up, after all. And if Galen was dead, a tune once played by their mother would play tribute to his innocent soul. She plucked the flute from the grass, her hands shaking, as she struggled to recall where to place her fingers.

continued . . .