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Chapter 2: Entering the Fey Realm
🕑 Added 2024-11-13 06:58:23 +0000 UTCThe world returned around Tristan. But it was not his world. The cornfield was gone. He wasn’t in a small clearing. And the sky was not blue. It was a shifting display of multiple hues. Purple, green, the familiar blue, a deeper blue - and it changed colors in various places. “The Fey Realm, numb-nuts. Do you not even know where we come from? And you call yourself a dragonslayer.”
Tristan looked down at the creature in his hands, “Take us back. Now.”
“Nope!” The creature giggled and laughed. To Tristan’s shock, the flowers that were around him began to laugh along with the fairy dragon. “You can’t hurt me permanently without enchanted iron.”
“But I can still hurt you. This is a dragonslaying sword. The cage might not have worked, but this might.” Tristan replied as he pinned the creature to the purple grass beneath them and drew his weapon. He saw the fear in the creature’s eyes, “You’ve escaped me so many times…but now there’s no escape.”
“Hey, look doofus,” the voice was panicked and talking like a charlatan and swindler would - all fast words. “I never would have elucidated upon where our destination was if not for the malicious intent that you hold in your mind. I can’t take you home. Fairy dragons can only travel to and from the Fey Realm once every century. You’re out of luck! Killing me won’t do anything, you’ll be stuck here! And my species will not treat you nicely!”
Tristan let out a scream of frustration and stabbed the blade down into the grass beside the fairy dragon. “Damnit!” he screamed. “I just want to go home!” He felt so angry and filled with sorrow. Ten years of my life…chasing this thing! I just…I want to go back. He wanted so badly to be a renowned hero of the kingdom…but instead he was a laughingstock.
And that cut him more than any blade could. Even if I brought the corpse back…ten years to hunt down the weakest type of dragon. I wouldn’t earn any glory. I’d probably get jeered at because it took so long. At the least, he knew that Bertram and Gisele would hold it against him his whole life. His father would be even more disappointed in him than he already was. His grandfather might be a little proud…but Tristan knew that he was in a lose-lose situation right now.
The fairy dragon’s voice was still fast-talking, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity. “Go home to what? You’re the youngest and least talented kid out of your whole family.”
“How do you know-”
“Not to mention you got the crappy job of chasing down a fairy dragon! And all for what? Some stupid metal rod?” There was a glimmer of light next to the fairy, and the metal rod of the king fell to the ground next to them. “It’s just a hunk of steel! I thought it would have gems or something on it, but nooo. No magic at all! Some stupid symbol of office.” She flapped her wings to no avail, and went limp as she sighed. “And as to how I know that stuff – you talk in your sleep.”
Tristan kept the creature pinned by the neck but picked up the rod. Why the hell would the king be so pissed off at this being taken? It felt like a solid piece of metal. It had a bit of fancy scrollwork, but it didn’t thrum in his hand like a magical item would, waiting the infusion of magical energy which he did not have. “He sent me to kill you over this?”
“That’s what I’m saying! He sounds like a real jerk.”
“He is,” Tristan muttered. “But he is still my king. And my family owes him for elevating us to nobility.” He put the scepter in a loop on his belt, then turned back to the fairy dragon. “We’re stuck here for the next hundred years?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Too bad you’re not an Elf, otherwise you would survive that long.” She was referencing the Elvish trait of longevity. Each of the races had some unique quirk about them; Drakonid were imbued with the elements, Broxtar were huge in stature, and Demihumans gained animalistic features that augmented their bodies: to name a few. The only outlier were Humans, who were the only race capable of intermingling with any other race.
“Half-Elf,” Tristan said as he pulled his silver hair back just enough to show off the slightly elongated tips of his ears.
“Oh! Then this is your ancestral homeland.”
“What?”
“Yeah, Elves are fey creatures from the Fey Realm. Well, initially. They moved to the Mortal Realm a long time ago.” The fairy dragon giggled, “We used to be your best friends. But right now, you are not acting very friendly.” She blew a raspberry at him, her little, green tongue flagging in front of his face.
Tristan shook his head, “Why should I be? I started chasing you down when I was sixteen. Ten years of life, lost out because you kept giving me the slip!”
“And it was a fun chase. Remember that time you cut off my tail and I barely got out of the window, and then you slipped on a bit of fruit rind of all things!” the fairy dragon giggled again, “That was hilarious! It’s been a fun chase. Even more fun because you can’t hurt me with a-n-y any of your weapons…well, okay, that sword you have can hurt me…but let’s not test that out anymore, okay?”
Tristan felt the anger building up in him further and further, reaching a boiling point, and he resisted the temptation to squeeze down on this creature’s throat. “It was humiliating!”
“Do tell. I could use a laugh right now.”
He grit his teeth as he growled out the name, remembering the times he had been jeered traveling through towns on his seemingly fruitless quest. “Every time I tracked you down, every time I got close to you…you did something to screw it up! No one is that unlucky!”
The fairy dragon had a confused look on its face, “What do you mean?”
“You don’t remember the oil slick on the ground when I tracked you down to that smithy? Or the time my sword got caught in a fishing net hanging from the docks? Or the time that a housewife threw their nightsoil out on my head in that alley?!”
“Oh yeah! Those were hilarious! But that wasn’t me, no sir.”
“Liar!”
“You can think that all you want.”
Tristan kept his grip on the thing’s throat, yanking it up with him as he stood. He did not want to talk with this thing anymore, because he was just getting angrier. And as far as he knew, it had some hidden means to return to the Mortal Realm. He had to focus on surviving this strange land. I need to find shelter, a source of food, and clean water.
Surviving a century was a possibility, as he had no clue how long his lifespan would be. Half-Elves were a mystery in that regard because of how few and far-between they were. Sometimes they took after the human side, sometimes the Elven side. But he was the only one in his family, so he had nothing to compare against.
He knew that traveling to and from the different Realms was possible. It was fairly common for some of the more settled Realms, such as the Heavenly, Giant, and Demon Realms – though the last one was quite violent. It nonetheless was under someone’s control. As long as I survive, I can either force some type of alternate way to return from this thing, or re-read grandpa’s manual to see if there’s any notes about a way to get back…or I could wait it out and hope I live long enough. But first-
“Where can I find water?”
“We don’t have that here.”
“Bullshit.” Tristan began walking towards a thin, blue line in the distance. “That’s obviously a river,” he said as he began to turn his feet and descend the hill they had arrived upon. To his surprise, he did not slip or slide at all. His feet felt sure in their steps. He could have sworn that the earth and dirt was slightly…shuffling out of the way to make his path less hazardous.
In fact, the air seemed…cleaner, as well. Crisper, and as he focused on it, he could smell the sweet scent of cinnamon-baked apples like what they would have around the feast days. He paused in his descent and closed his eyes, hearing some soft instrument that seemed to dance just at the edge of his range of hearing. Even the air seemed to have a taste to it; something sweet.
It was unnerving and soothing at the same time.
“Oh, that is interesting. I was wondering if that would happen or not.” The fairy dragon’s voice pulled Tristan out of his short reverie. “You should find a mirror.”
Tristan frowned, “And why should I do that?”
“Well, normally people like to know when their body changes spontaneously. I mean, you chased a fairy dragon for ten years, so I don’t think you’re very norm-”
Tristan felt panic, and drew his sword with his offhand, holding the blade up to his eye level. His normally brown eyes were a vibrant, glowing silver with luminescent, icy-blue irises, and golden pupils. His ears had elongated past his hair just like his mother had. And his skin was more lustrous. “What in the hells happened to me?”
“Your bloodline is showing,” The fairy dragon stated with a giggle. “Looks like the Elf side is pretty strong compared to the human side. I’d argue its fully pushed out the human blood, lucky you. But I’m not a doctor or anything like that!”
Tristan sheathed his sword, “Fine, I’m more Elf than human. That doesn’t change anything about this situation. I still need water, food, shelter - and figure out some way to keep you locked up until this century passes.” Right now, survival is paramount…One benefit I suppose is if I am more Elf than human, I should be able to live long enough to get back. If I can set up a good basecamp here, then I can wait it out with this thing as my prisoner.
The fairy dragon wriggled in his grip before giving out an exasperated sigh, “You really don’t get it, do you? You’re in a place that no Elf has visited since the Great Exodus. Who cares about killing a fairy dragon for some stupid king’s quest? You’re making history! That’s’ worth more reputation than returning some dumb metal stick.”
Tristan’s curiosity was piqued, and even though he kept walking to the river, he very slightly loosened his grip. Great Exodus? No one told me about that. I always thought that Elves came from across the sea from a sunken continent – that’s what mom always told me. But this…place…did Elves really come from here? “When was that?”
“Twelve-thousand years, give or take. No person from any race has been here since!” The fairy dragon frowned slightly at that, “And when The Matriarch finds out about you getting in here, I’m going to be in big trouble!”
“Why?”
“The Elves left because this Realm was dying! Your race was too populous, sucking up too much latent magical energy in the air. That’s why your Elf traits came out so quickly after just a few minutes. The Otherworld is literally suffusing you with magical power. A bunch of it gathering over ten-thousand years, plus some millennia.” She frowned, sniffed, and made a slightly disgusted face, “Bleh! You still have some Human bloodline scent in you. The Elf side is sweet, like honey. But the Human side is like rancid meat – that sickly sweet.”
“Probably the Dragonslayer bloodline,” Tristan muttered. Every person had a bloodline of some type – often two unless they were inbred or one bloodline was far more dominant than the other one. His grandfather had created a bloodline when he slew, ate the meat of, and drank the blood of an Arch Dragon. Creating a new bloodline was uncommon. It is weird that she can smell my bloodline though.
Tristan felt a weird mix of emotions. Distrust because this thing had tricked him before, he was sure; and apparently it had also spied on him while he slept which just added insult to injury. A sense of believing in the creature because he had seen the physical changes with his eyes in the reflection of the blade. And also, an unease at being in a foreign Realm.
But hidden under all of that was confidence. Something that felt like a rustling wind in his soul, scattering the leaves of his emotions about in a tumultuous tempest. What this fairy dragon was saying sounded right. Resonated with him on a deeper level than his conscious, waking mind could understand.
“All that unlucky stuff that kept happening to you? Might be because you were leaking magic into the environment without noticing. Or maybe because your Elf side kept fighting with your Human side. Half-races are weird.”
“If…I was leaking magic as you put it, then why didn’t my lantern respond to it?” Tristan asked.
“Beats me. Maybe it got used to your magical essence leaking all the time and just learned to ignore it?”
Tristan reached the bottom of the hill and found to his surprise and odd delight that the ground was slightly springy. He bounced off of it and let out a brief laugh at the weird sensation of becoming a little lighter for a moment. “What’s this?”
“Jumpshrubs,” the fairy dragon replied. “Good for traveling fast. It grows in open spaces.” It sighed, “Look, I don’t like being manhandled now and again, but this ‘grab me around the neck’ thing is very uncomfortable. Mind letting me go?”
Tristan looked down at the creature as he stopped his bounce-based travel across the plains, “You’re my only way to get back home in a century.”
It groaned and wriggled, “Why are you so stubborn! I can help you! Take you to visit The Matriarch. You’re an Elf now, well, more Elf – she is bound to help you.”
Tristan eyed it suspiciously. It hasn’t lied to me yet as far as I know…but just to be sure. “Tell me how to get there, and if you’re telling the truth, we get there and I’ll let you go.”
“Okay, good! Making progress. Oh, I never caught your name.”
“Tristan Anorox.”
“I’m Felicity Glimmerwing.”
