The world returned around Tristan. But it wasn’t his world. The cornfield was gone, and the sky was decidedly not blue. It was instead 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 fairy dragons 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. “This is my realm. And I’m going to get you in so much trouble!” The dragon took in a deep breath and Tristan braced himself for some terrible spell, or the signature breath weapon attack of all dragonkind.
“Moooooom!” she shouted. She grinned at him, and Tristan waited for several tense seconds, listening for the flapping of wings that would herald the arrival of a larger dragon. But no sounds met his ears. The fairy dragon’s grin turned to a frown. “Well…shit.”
Tristan pinned the creature to the purple grass beneath, squeezing down on the throat to silence it, 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 wheezed out, 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 a century. You’re out of luck! Killing me won’t do anything, you’ll be stuck here! And my family will not treat you nicely! My mom will kick your butt!”
Tristan realized with a dawning fear that she was probably right. He 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. 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.
The thought him deeper and more painfully than any blade could, and Tristan took realistic stock of his situation for the first time in perhaps months. Even if I brought the corpse back…this long to hunt down the weakest type of dragon? I wouldn’t earn any glory. I’d probably be lucky to 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.”
Tristan flinched. “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.”
“…Wait, you’ve been watching me while I was asleep?” Tristan squinted at her suspiciously.
“Well, yeah. I don’t need much sleep, and I had to make sure I didn’t get too far ahead. Or else the chase would have ended!” She giggled, “I do like sleeping though! Like those cats. They are very cute and snuggly.”
Tristan kept the creature pinned by the neck but picked up the rod, diverting his attention away from her banter. 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 for an infusion of magical energy he didn’t have. “He sent me to kill you over this?”
“That’s what I’m saying! He sounds like a real jerk.” She cackled.
“He is,” Tristan muttered. “But he’s still my king. And my family owes him a debt 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?” he asked as he felt that fear and a sense of dread build up in his chest.
“Yeah, that’s right. Too bad you’re not an Elf, otherwise you would survive that long.” She was referencing the Elvish heritage’s trait of longevity.
“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 welcome home! I mean, I smelled the Elf in you, but you have that stinky Human blood mucking it up.”
“What?” Tristan had no clue what she was talking about. Elves came from across the seas from a sunken continent! Not from some Fey Realm! She has to be lying. This tricky little minx!
“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. Two years of life, lost out because you kept giving me the slip!” He had missed out on so many possible experiences. Like a real dragon hunt.
“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.”
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 annoying creature’s throat. “It was humiliating! You wouldn’t know the half of how humiliating it was.”
“Do tell. I could use a laugh right now.”
He grit his teeth as he growled out the words, 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 paused, scrunching up 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?!”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Oh yeah! Those were hilarious! But that wasn’t me, no sir.”
“Liar!” Tristan screamed, his voice rising an octave.
“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 worked up. 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 first. 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. Those that took after the latter lived long lives that spanned at least two centuries. But he was the only half-breed Elf in his family, so he had nothing to compare against.
He knew that traveling to and from the different Realms was possible in theory, having heard stories of travelers from the more stable Realms, such as the Heavenly, Giant, and Demon Realms.
As long as I survive, I can either find an alternative way to return from this thing, or re-read grandfather’s manual to see if there’s any notes about a way to get back…But first-
“Where can I find water?” he asked.
“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, turning his feet and descending the hill they had arrived upon. To his surprise, he didn’t 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.
It was a strange world, different in every way. The colors were all wrong – not displeasing at all, but quite unnatural. Trees were blue and purple, the ground was bright yellow and an even brighter, almost-glowing green, and the skies were glimmering with shimmering strands of lights – tapestries that wended their way across the sky.
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 back home. 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, and filled him with a strange sort of warmth, even if he was probably just imagining it-
“Oh, that is interesting. I was wondering if that would happen or not.” The fairy dragon’s voice pulled Tristan out of his 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 two years, so I don’t think you’re very norm-”
Tristan quickly drew his sword with his offhand, holding the blade up to his eye level. He gasped at the face he saw in the reflection. His face, and yet not his own. Hints of it remained, but there was a shift. 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 and paler; snow white and pristine save for the scar above his left eye. “What in the Hells did you do to me?” he whispered as his voice shook.
“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 it’s fully pushed out the human blood, lucky you. Not like I’m 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 mother always told me. But this…place…did Elves really come from here? “And when was the Great Exodus?”
“Twelve-thousand years, give or take. No mortal of any heritage 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?” Tristan turned to glance at the fairy dragon, who squirmed a bit more before replying.
“The Elves left because this Realm was dying! Your heritage 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 Fey Realm is literally suffusing you with magical power. A bunch of it gathered 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, a rare feat of strength and will. It is a bit weird that she can smell my bloodline. I’ve never heard of anything being able to smell bloodlines.
Tristan felt a weird mix of emotions. Distrust because this thing had tricked him before, he was sure, and so he held her out to the side at full-arm length. And, apparently, it had also spied on him while he slept which just added insult to injury, so he kept a wary eye on her. A sense of believing in the creature because he had seen the physical changes with his eyes in the reflection of the blade. And lastly, 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. That must have played across his face in some amount, because the fairy dragon stopped wriggling and just hung there limply as she spoke.
“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-breeds are weird.” The fairy dragon was a talker, and right now Tristan was thankful for it. Its theories were better than nothing and was keeping him from pulling his hair out trying to figure out what was going on.
“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 do 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! Maybe I can take you to visit The Matriarch. You’re an Elf now, well, more Elf – she is bound to help you. Plus, your human smell is not as strong. And your Elf smell is like a cool, refreshing mint.”
Again with the smell thing. Minty smell? That’s enough to have her change her stance so suddenly? Tristan eyed her suspiciously. In the two frustrating years he had chased the creature, he had not known it to lie, despite all the pranks it got up to. Fey rarely did lie, if at all, from what he read before heading out for his hunt. “Tell me how to get there, and if you’re telling the truth, I’ll let you go when we get there.”
“Okay, good! Making progress. Oh, I never caught your name.”
“Tristan Anorox.”
“I’m Felicity Glimmerwing.”