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Chapter 1: Chasing a Fairy Dragon
🕑 Added 2024-11-13 06:57:59 +0000 UTCBlurb:
Tristan is the youngest child of a minor noble family renowned for one thing in the kingdom - slaying dragons. When you get a set of dragon killing gear, you get assigned to kill a dragon. And when you’re the youngest and least experienced, you get sent on the least respectable hunts.
In this case, it was chasing a gods-damned fairy dragon. The weakest of the bunch, but also the most cunning. He had almost gotten the blasted thing a few times, but it always slipped him.
When he finally catches his quarry, it runs away to another place, the Fey Realm. And like a good dragonslayer, he chases it there. But upon entering that realm, his bloodline awakens.
He gains the ability to use spells, the longevity of his mother’s lineage, and learns of a vault containing ancient secrets. But he is not yet strong enough to unlock it. Thus, he ventures back to the Mortal Realm with the very prey he had been hunting; to grow in power enough to reveal the hidden treasures of his ancestral homeland.
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The sun beat down on Tristan’s back as he stomped across the soggy road. It had rained the night before and the entire region was soaked through. It made travel hellish, and all but the most stubborn traders would be waiting until the ground firmed up a bit. But not Tristan. This type of hard travel was what he had grown used to over the past decade.
He trudged along the path, following the slight glimmer of sparkling starlight that extended from the lantern on his hip. The only guiding light to try and find the creature that had plagued his existence since he set off on his journey so long ago. Sent out at the ripe, young age of sixteen to go and slay a dragon. But not just any dragon, a fairy dragon. The weakest of the bunch – but also the most crafty and nefarious.
Oh, he’d almost caught it a few times. But each time, it slipped away, or he had struck an illusion it created, or he had experienced terrible luck and slipped on some ungodly substance strewn upon the ground. Every time he had gotten close, he’d either barely injured it before it escaped, or it hexed him, cursing him with bad fortune.
The quest was to kill the thing, but even a shoddy student like Tristan knew that a fairy dragon could only be killed by trapping it within a cage of iron and then slaying it. One that he had strapped to his back. It was a heavy burden to carry over the years, but it was the only means he had to permanently kill it. At least, if his grandfather’s dragonslaying manual was anything to go by.
Some dragonslayer I’ve turned out to be, he thought. What would dad or grandpa think of this whole mess? Chasing the weakest of the dragon-kind for years and years? Bertram or Gisele would have killed it in their first encounter, I bet.
His half-siblings. Bertram was five years his elder, and Gisele was three years older. Both were full-blood Humans, just like their dad. Tristan shared the same father, but his mother was one of the Elf race, from across the sea, as she used to tell a younger Tristan when he would be on her knee in the study.
He had always been compared to his siblings. Bertram was popular with the girls and had made a name for himself at twelve when he helped their father kill a nefarious dragon cultist in the Kingdom of Bhant. Bertram, he thought. Always the best swordsman of the three of us. But he worked hard to get there. Tristan vividly recalled the evenings when he would be going to his lessons on dragonkind with his grandfather, and Bertram instead stayed in the practice yard swinging his weighted blades over and over.
Gisele, on the other hand, was not a skilled swordswoman. She was a natural. Their father used to say that she was born to have a sword in her hand, and she barely had to practice with the blade. Instead, most of her time was spent at the court. She still wanted to be a dragonslayer, like their father and grandfather, but she also wanted to ascend the ranks of nobility. Leveraging her name and impressing a male partner was one of the ways she could do that. I was always jealous of how skilled and gifted she is.
Tristan…he was average at everything he tried. His father did not particularly like him, but his grandfather was more than willing to step into the father-figure role. The only half-race of the family, Tristan was quite attached to his mother and grandfather. The former taught him history, reading, writing, and other subjects of academics – spurning the tutors his brother and sister were assigned. His grandfather taught him how to slay dragons.
But…his whole life he had been plagued by bad luck. And it had manifested once more, as his thoughts returned to the present. The rain from the night before came out of nowhere, and it made traveling hell. Tristan could feel the mud working its way through the armored soles of his greaves and wiggling into the boots inside.
Tristan paused as he felt the lantern on his hip vibrate. He began scanning the drowned farmland, searching for any sign of magical activity. There would always be a ‘glimmer’ of some type in the air to indicate the presence of magic, like a mirage in a desert. And while he had no magic of his own, Tristan’s armor gave him defense against such powers. Despite being the worst of the three suits of protective carapaces his father had left to his children, it still was good enough to repel the lowest spells – spells of the First Order.
The lantern began to pull away from his hip slightly, indicating a very strong presence of magic…and a direction. Despite being the youngest of the family’s heirs, and getting the crappiest equipment out of the lot, his Mana-Lantern worked just like the rest of them. It might have had the smallest range of the lot, but it worked, nonetheless.
Leaving the road, he began running across the field, tripping and falling a few times before hefting himself up out of the mud. He was not clumsy, and there was no good reason to fall. Fairy dragons were well-known for their trickery and practical jokes, and Tristan chalked his slipping up to that malevolent magic that had plagued him ever since he first encountered this creature. That, or the bad luck he’d been cursed with.
I’m so close! he thought as he drew the weakest of the Anorox family’s ancestral blades. It’s gotta be around here somewhere. His weapon, just like the armor, was the third of three possible ones he could have inherited. Bertram received Dragon Render as the eldest child. Gisele got Scale’s Bane. And Tristan…well, he got the nameless backup sword. It was so unimportant in the family’s lineage that it didn’t even have a name. It had no ornamentation, no filigree; just subject to an ancient artifice spell of the Fifth Order. Injure it, grab it, get it in the cage. Then stab it.
The crops that were knee-height had become taller and taller the further away he was from the road. He could no longer see that muddy trail, and his eyes were glued, transfixed on the shining trail of glimmering starlight. The pull on the lantern was stronger than he had ever seen. Which meant that either the lantern had spontaneously grown in its dowsing powers - which Tristan had never heard of happening – or it was malfunctioning. Given his luck, it was probably the latter.
He slowed his gait and walked more cautiously, zoning out as he focused solely on his hearing. A trick he had learned from his mother, as she taught him to listen to the sounds of nature for hints to danger in the environment. The rustling of the corn stalks, the scent of the fallen rain…and a slight noise just barely on the edge of his hearing.
He could hear the faint giggle of laughter somewhere in front of him. Too many crops to make a stealthy approach, he thought as he heard the crunch underfoot of a bit of corn that had seemingly fallen right in front of him. Once more, he cursed his luck. I could just rush it, but without vision that’s tricky. Think. Options…
The lantern kept pulling, and he took a sharp breath. Some big spell! It’s all or nothing! He charged forward through the tall grass, cutting left and right to make a clearer path so that he could speed up his approach. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the thump thump of his heart in his chest, and the exhilaration of finally tracking down his prey…again. Gods, please don’t let there be anything to screw me up this time. Please let my bad luck just stay away.
He entered a clearing that glowed with magical energy. The whole environment was warbling and warping from the power’s distortion. He had no clue the type of spell or which Order it might fall under, as magecraft was a school of learning reserved for those with the ability to become a mage. He had been taught, again, by his mother, how to notice the slight mirage-like look of magic manifesting.
In the center of the clearing was his prey. The fairy dragon he had been chasing all this time. It could be considered cute by some. A small, foxlike creature covered with armored scales that glimmered with the hues of the rainbow. Instead of ears, it had a pair of deer antlers that were a stark white color. Its wings were like that of a songbird mixed with a butterfly; a crimson and blue that clashed with each other.
“Well, look who found me, again,” the feminine voice said arrogantly. “Aren’t you tired of chasing dragons?” It giggled and then flew up from the ground, and Tristan spotted some type of circle on the ground under it. “I’m going to be going now. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been fun! But you’ve bored me.”
Tristan did not engage in banter as he had before – his mistake on his first encounter, letting himself get distracted by the dragon talking. Something that was not in his grandfathers dragonslaying manual.
Instead, he charged forward and chopped down with his sword. Silent, reserving all of his energy to fight.
“Hey, that is not nice!” the fairy dragon dashed sideways, dodging the blow. Tristan’s lantern was spinning wildly on the small chain it was attached to, and the device exploded with an enormous crack from the sheer amount of magical energy present in the ambient environment. The shards pinged off Tristan’s armor, but one of the bits of iron caught the fairy dragon in the wing.
“Ouch!”
Tristan took advantage of that opening and slashed with a horizontal swing, catching the creature and shearing clean through its wing. It let out a scream of pain as it fell to the ground. Tristan immediately sheathed the sword, loosened the cage from his back, letting it fall to the ground, and tackled the creature. A move he had practiced over and over the past few years, preparing for this moment.
“No! This is not fun anymore!” the fairy dragon shouted. “I’m going home!”
“No you don’t!” Tristan shouted as he tried to wrestle the fairy dragon to the cage. Finally! I kill this thing, and I can go home.
The world began to glow a cerulean blue, and Tristan squeezed his eyes shut, still holding tight to the fairy dragon as he wrangled it. The creature tried to claw and bite at him but found no purchase against his armor. Tristan was able to haul it to the cage behind him and shoved the fairy dragon into it before slamming the door shut.
I…I got it! Tristan began to draw his sword to deliver the final blow, but the entire world turned white around him.
“Really? Regular iron? You idiot! You have to use enchanted iron! Did no one tell you that?”
Tristan was confused, “What?”
The world vanished and Tristan was in a black void. Still on some type of solid surface, nothing else existed except for him, the cage, and the fairy dragon. “Nice going, jackass. You got us in between your home and my home!” The fairy dragon’s wing grew back, it said something in a language Tristan didn’t understand, and with a burst of magical energy, the cage turned into a bunch of flowers that cascaded down.
Damnit. Nothing in great-grandpa’s dragonslayer manual said anything about enchanted iron!
“You’re an idiot. Who wastes ten years of their life trying to kill a fairy dragon? Seriously! We don’t hurt anyone! Just harmless pranks! Well, mostly harmless.”
Tristan felt rage boil up in him, “I can’t go back until you’re dead!”
The fairy dragon’s face shifted and showed a dour expression, “Well that’s a s-t-u-p-i-d, stupid rule. Did I emphasize how stupid that is?”
“It’s because you stole the king’s scepter!”
The fairy dragon giggled, “Oh, yeah. That was a fun prank! Who puts all their authority to rule into a silly metal stick? Doesn’t seem like a solid system of government. ‘Whoever holds this bit of metal gets to rule the kingdom’ what i-d-i-o-t came up with that?”
Tristan growled and grabbed the thing, “I’ve chased you for ten years. I just want to go home.”
“So do I!”
The world began to light up. Gradually shifting from black to grey, to a blinding white. “What’s happening?” Tristan asked.
The fairy dragon replied with a giggle, “Yes! We’re going to the Fey Realm! In your face, wanna-be dragonslayer!”
“Where?”
