Of Past and Future: The tale of a Traveller

Disclaimer: Do I have to repeat this in every chapter? Sigh OK. I do not own anything that belongs to Nintendo well, duh. Kapische? Good.

Chapter 5-

Skysoar was perched on a thick branch over twenty feet high like an oversized bird of prey covered in azure scales. He was waiting for something edible to stray near him. He had been there for the past three hours and was slowly beginning to get ticked off. So far he had seen only three squirrels and a drowsy owl.

"What would I give for a juicy pig.." he thought to himself. Then he remembered one of the bandits had been a boar anthro and shivered.

"Damn. Now I´ll never eat pork like I used to.." He snorted at his own lame joke. "The boredom must be really getting to me.. If I do not catch anything soon, we will be back eating dried meat and berries."

A sudden gust of wind brought the smell of charred wood from the funeral pyre. It had taken the entire night for the pyre to burn out, and it had been smoking for the following two days straight. Skysoar had been collecting supplies for traveling south, and training himself. He had used his free time to getting used to his alternative form. He had noticed that his vulpine form was much faster and more agile then his heavy Draconian body, though lacking the immense strength. His sense of hearing was much better in his fox form than in Draconian form, but the eyesight of the fox, though good, was inferior compared to his Draconian vision, especially as the field of vision of the fox vas considerably more narrow than his Draconian view. Skysoar still suspected that the spell had fortified the senses of his fox body. He did not know why his fur had been blue instead of white, but he did not care of it that much. An interesting fact, however, was that his initially weak fox body had soon been strengthened to a level closer to the strength of his true form. He had learned to use the slender and nimble fingers of his fox body (although he still tended to forget to use his fifth fingers), but he still had to cope with losing his wings. More then once he had nearly jumped off a cliff before remembering to transmorph back to his Draconian self. Also, as a small sidenote, he had noticed that his soft fur was much harder to keep clean than his hard Draconian scales. Nevertheless, the only truly disturbing flaw in his fox body was the absence of his thunder breath weapon.

The wind turned and brought a new scent to Skysoar´s nostrils. He slowly turned his head towards the scent.

"Well hello there.."

A small deer had appeared some fifty feet to his left. The wind was blowing towards Skysoar, so the deer had not smelled him yet. Skysoar opened his mouth and took aim. The deer fell down smoking. Skysoar whisked away the smoke flowing from his nostrils and dropped off the branch. He used his wings to slow down his fall and landed nearly silently.

Skysoar smiled at his handiwork. A deep scorch mark showed where his lightning bolt had hit home- right in the middle of the neck.

"Damn I'm good. Let's get you back to the cave, shall we?"

Back at the cave Skysoar was greeted with an intense blue stare and a small scream.

"Hello, dal´rann. Did you miss me?" She just looked back and made small noises. She had become much more active during the last few days and Skysoar was sure she could recognize him. Oddly enough, she did seem to recognize him no matter which form he has in.

Skysoar roasted the deer over a small fire and boiled some of the meat and herbs in a cauldron he had found in the caravan. Normally he would have just eaten the deer raw, but he had noticed the pup had begun growing rather promising (not to mention sharp) fangs. Actually, he had been awakened suddenly one morning when something fluffy with very sharp fangs had attacked his tail. Skysoar smiled at the pup who was suddenly very interested in a fly buzzing around the cave.

He shook his head and resumed cooking. Soon he had a small bowl of soup with small pieces of soft meat in it. Skysoar had never thought of himself as much of a cook, but the mix did smell good. He made sure the soup was not too hot and proceeded to offer some to the child. She seemed to like the change in her diet, as most of the stew was swiftly consumed.

"Hm. If I can give you nearly solid food, dal´rann, it will not be long before we can travel."

Currently their stashes had enough food to support them for nearly two months. Most of it, though, was dried travel food and not very easy for the child to eat. They could not afford to notice halfway their travel that they had run out of food that she could eat. She had grown nearly three pounds in a short time and needed food often.

The short, white fur of the child had grown into a thick and silky layer like pure snow. Skysoar had taken a habit of grooming her fur daily, and she seemed to enjoy these sessions. Skysoar smiled and glanced at the sleeping child. Partly unknown to him, his Draconian instincts had kicked in the moment he had held her the first time. Anything attempting to harm her would have to come through him first. He would fight for her to the last breath.. which could very well destroy the attacker.

Skysoar looked out of the cave, sighing deeply. They would need to leave before the weather turned for the worse. The winds in the valley had slowly been turning colder and colder. Not that he minded the change in temperature- it was all the same to him. The child was an entirely different story however, as the cold could become hazardous for her.

Skysoar decided to make a small circle around the valley. He had not flown in a good time, and his wings had seemed to itch of dormancy. The joy of flight never seemed to grow old, for there was always something new and different, as the winds and thermal currents changed continuously. From the heights there were no visible remains left of the caravan. Only the black splotch of the funeral pyre could be seen. A small glitter from the pyre caught Skysoar´s eye. "What is that?"

Skysoar slammed his wings and swooped down to see closer. Something was on the pile of ashes. He took in a deep breath and dove. Moments before landing he spread his wings to break his fall. He landed knee deep in black and gray ashes. The force of his wings spread around a small cloud of ashes. Only ashes were visible in the pile.. not even bones had remained after the flames had burnt out. The object he had seen was partly buried on the center of the pile. Skysoar slammed his wings forcefully some times to blow off the soot and proceeded to grab the item.

He was holding the spiked mace the fox warrior who had given him his charge had been using. The searing flames of the pyre had not damaged the weapon in any way, but it still felt warm to the touch. The previously dull gray color of the two-foot long weapon had been changed into jet black. Skysoar cleaned off the soot from the weapon, revealing several silvery inch-long thorns on the end. He took some swings with the mace.

"Hm. Well balanced.."

Skysoar took a swing at a small tree and was dumbstruck when the mace took a large piece of the branch with it.

"What on.."

Skysoar eyed the mace carefully and send a probing thought at the mace. He got back a strong pulse of raw magic. His golden eyes widened. A magical weapon? It had not been magical when he had placed it in the pyre. Had the pyre changed the mace? He had heard stories of weapons blessed in sacred funeral pyres, but why would have Dachar blessed this particular mace?

Skysoar was standing in the middle of cold plains. No life was visible. Dark storm clouds were covering the sky. Suddenly a bolt of lightning crashed down from the dark sky, exploding on the earth right in front of him. In the bottom of the crater was lying a fabulous warhammer, seemingly made out of pure lightning and storm clouds. Skysoar bowed to pick up the weapon, and it changed in his hands. He was holding a black spiked mace, adorned with silvery decorations and thorns.

Skysoar shook out of the trance and eyed the weapon he was holding with new respect. The mace seemed to crackle with pure magic in his hands. In his vision.. a hammer made of pure storm..

"Zor´Schrann? The Stormhammer?"

The mace crackled with electricity and pulsed with energy in his hands, acknowledging his presence and submitting to his command.