Fire And Fangs

Chapter 50

"I have been alive for thousands of years, and my teeth, talons and thu'um have dispatched any foe that has faced me. And not once have I ever been felled in combat, even with any of the dovah," Durnehviir announced with pride, his eyes fixed on Morgans with what Morgan thought as an appreciative gaze.

Morgan gave him a small nod. He had been a very tough dragon to face, and it was only because she had experience in fighting them, as well as having Serana and Valerica helping her, that had allowed her to prevail.

"And yet you managed this feat with relative ease," Durnehviir finished off his last sentence as Morgan turned her full attention to him once more. "I name you Qahnaarin. It means 'Vanquisher' in the mortal tongue."

Morgan smiled wider at his words. People would always be scared of dragons, but she had to admit that if you were lucky enough to kill one, some of them were actually impressed if you managed it, despite their prideful nature. And it seemed Durnehviir was one of those dragons.

"It wasn't that easy," Morgan responded quietly as she leaned against the pillar slightly for more comfort, "You were a very worthy opponent to face."

"Your words do me great honour. And it is an honour to tinvaak with one of the dov once more," Durnehviir replied.

"I am not a dragon though," Morgan pointed out.

"You may not have the wings of a dovah....but you have the soul and the strength of one...Dovahkiin."

Morgan blinked a few times before she talked, stunned that he had known who she was.

"How did you know?"

"The way you fight and use your thu'um. It was clear to me then who you were. Despite the blood of the nightwalkers that now fuel your body, you still cannot hide the soul that you share with that of the dov. And news of the defeat of Alduin in Sovngarde has reached even this realm of Oblivion, Dovahkiin."

"And I assume the Ideal Masters know of me?" Morgan asked him warily.

"Of course. Although I know as well that they will never gain your soul, no matter what happens to you when your undead life leaves your body...I sense you have been marked by someone else."

Morgan shivered at his words now. Ever since she had spoke to the Night Mother, she had felt as though she had been watched every time she took someones life in battle, and she had also felt the love that a mother would give a child as though she had done something pleasing.

"Maybe," Morgan conceded, changing the subject before her nerves got the best of her. "I have to ask though...how did you get trapped here? I mean every single dovah I have faced has always been a challenge...how did the Ideal Masters change you so?"

"Many years ago, the dovah were the supreme rulers of the skies. Most of the lands were held in territorial borders, and many fights between us ensued. But I was not one of those that thought bloodshed between us was a worthwhile cause, to ensure our reign was unchallenged yet fair to that of others."

"You looked for a different way," Morgan noted.

"Yes. While many of my brethren relied on their thu'um and natural strength in battle, I searched for a different way. One that involved the use of the forbidden art of magic that you know as 'Necromancy'. I wished to raise an army of the undead, an army that would never fear or retreat."

"So you turned to the Ideal Masters."

"I did. I asked for the undead that resided in their realms for my offer. In return, I was to guard the once known as 'Valerica' until the say she died."