The Flame Bearer - Chapter - 37

The cavern gradually grew quiet once more.

Harry slowly closed the lid of his enchanted trunk.

The eleven eggs from Vroengard disappeared from sight, safely stored within the magically expanded space inside. Yet even after the trunk was shut, Arya's eyes remained fixed upon it.

She had not realized how long she had been staring until Harry spoke.

"You've been looking at those eggs ever since I put them away."

Arya blinked and turned toward him, as though waking from a distant memory. A faint smile appeared on her lips, but it carried more sadness than amusement.

"I suppose I have."

Mella looked between the two of them, her curiosity immediately piqued.

"You really wanted to become a Dragon Rider?"

Arya gave a quiet laugh.

It was not the laughter of someone embarrassed by an old dream. It was the gentle, wistful sound of someone remembering something they had once wanted more than anything else in the world.

"Wanted?" she repeated softly before shaking her head.

"No."

Her silver eyes drifted toward the hundreds of dragon eggs resting peacefully throughout the cavern.

"I still do."

None of the Eldunarí interrupted her. Their ancient minds remained calm and patient, watching the elven princess with quiet understanding. They had witnessed countless generations of Riders. They knew dreams such as hers were neither rare nor shameful.

Arya walked slowly toward one of the naturally formed stone benches beside the cavern wall and lowered herself onto it. For several moments she simply sat there, her fingers lightly brushing the smooth surface of the rock while she gathered memories she had not spoken aloud for many years.

"There isn't an elf alive," she finally said, "who hasn't dreamed of becoming a Dragon Rider."

Her voice was calm, almost distant.

"When we're children, we're raised on stories of the old Riders. We hear about Eragon the First, about Vrael, about Oromis and Glaedr. We listen to tales of dragons soaring above Du Weldenvarden while Riders kept peace throughout Alagaësia."

A faint smile crossed her face.

"As children, we never think about politics or war."

"We simply imagine ourselves flying."

"We imagine what it would feel like to hear a dragon's thoughts for the first time."

"We imagine protecting people."

"We imagine standing beside a creature who chooses us above everyone else."

Her smile slowly faded.

"Then we grow older."

"And reality teaches us that dreams are not always enough."

Harry knew that sometimes the greatest kindness was simply allowing someone to speak.

After a long pause, Arya drew a slow breath.

"Years ago, the Varden made one of the most dangerous decisions."

Even Mella instinctively leaned forward.

Arya continued, her eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the cavern walls.

"At that time, Galbatorix possessed the last three known dragon eggs."

"They were hidden within Urû'baen itself."

"Deep inside his palace."

Her voice became quieter.

"Those three eggs represented the future."

"If Galbatorix kept them..."

"Then one day he would create more Riders loyal only to him."

"If we could steal even one..."

"...there would still be hope."

"The Varden's council debated the matter for weeks. Some believed the mission was impossible. Others argued that losing twenty skilled warriors would weaken the rebellion beyond repair."

She smiled faintly.

"In the end..."

"...hope won."

Harry folded his arms as he listened.

"They asked for volunteers?"

Arya nodded.

"They never had to ask twice."

Her eyes became distant once more.

"I volunteered immediately."

"There was never any question."

She laughed softly to herself.

"I wasn't the only one."

"Nearly everyone in the room stepped forward."

Harry smiled knowingly.

"Brom volunteered as well."

The name immediately caught Mella's attention.

"Brom was already one of the Varden's finest."

"He knew more about Galbatorix than almost anyone alive."

Arya nodded.

"He insisted on joining. He argued that if anyone understood how the king thought, it was him."

"The council eventually selected twenty of us."

"The finest infiltrators they had."

"Scouts."

"Mages."

"Assassins."

"Soldiers willing to accept that they might never return."

Arya's voice remained calm, but beneath that calm lay memories that had never truly faded.

"We spent months preparing."

"Every report smuggled out of Urû'baen was studied."

"We memorized guard rotations."

"We learned secret entrances."

"We even learned which servants worked which corridors."

She shook her head slightly.

"By the end..."

"...we believed we knew the palace."

"We entered Urû'baen disguised as merchants."

"Not together."

"No more than three at a time."

She could still remember every street they had walked through.

The smell of smoke rising from the city.

The endless patrols.

The silent fear that hung over every ordinary citizen living beneath Galbatorix's rule.

"We spent three weeks inside the city before making our move."

"The palace itself..."

Her voice grew quieter.

"It was layered."

"There were protections woven into the walls."

"Mages stationed where no ordinary scout would ever think to look."

"Soldiers."

"Shades."

She paused briefly.

"And above it all..."

"It felt as though someone was always watching."

The memory alone was enough to make her shoulders tense.

"We finally reached the chamber containing the dragon eggs."

For the first time since beginning her story, a genuine smile appeared upon her face.

"There were three."

"They were magnificent."

"I had never stood so close to dragon eggs before."

She looked toward the countless eggs surrounding the cavern.

"The plan was simple."

"Take all three eggs."

"Leave the palace."

"Disappear before anyone realized what had happened."

She laughed quietly.

"It was a very good plan."

Then her expression darkened.

"It lasted less than a minute."

Mella frowned.

"What happened?"

Arya closed her eyes.

"We never found out."

"Perhaps we disturbed a hidden ward."

"Perhaps Galbatorix had anticipated someone would eventually try."

"Or perhaps..."

She sighed.

"...the king simply saw us."

When she opened her eyes again, they held the weight of a memory she would never forget.

"The moment we lifted the second egg..."

"...the palace awoke."

Arya's gaze drifted somewhere far away, beyond Dragon Island, beyond the present, returning to that terrible day.

"Alarm bells echoed through every corridor."

"Guards came from every direction."

"The walls themselves seemed alive with magic."

Her voice dropped almost to a whisper.

"And then..."

She stopped.

Even now, after so many years, recalling that single sound sent a chill through her.

"I heard him."

"...Shruikan."

"The roar of the dragon echoed across all of Urû'baen."

She closed her eyes.

"It was the most terrifying sound I have ever heard."

"And in that moment..."

"We were no longer trying to steal three dragon eggs."

"We were simply trying to escape with even one."

Harry simply waited.

He had learned long ago that some stories should never be rushed.

After several moments, she drew a slow breath.

"We ran," she said quietly.

"There was no longer any formation. No carefully planned escape route. The only thing that mattered was keeping the dragon egg moving."

Her hands rested calmly in her lap, but Harry noticed how tightly her fingers had intertwined.

"The palace seemed endless. Every corridor we cleared revealed another company of soldiers waiting ahead of us. Every staircase we descended already echoed with approaching footsteps. It was as though the entire city had awakened."

She smiled sadly.

"Perhaps it had."

Mella listened without interrupting, her full attention fixed upon the elven princess.

"The first time they caught us," Arya continued, "one of our companions turned back before anyone could stop him."

Her voice softened with memory.

"His name was Alren."

"He wasn't the strongest among us, nor the greatest swordsman. But he smiled as though we were setting out on an ordinary patrol."

Arya could still picture his face as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

"He told Brom to keep running."

"Then he closed the gates behind us."

For a moment, no one spoke.

"We heard fighting almost immediately. The sounds followed us for several corridors before they finally stopped."

She lowered her eyes.

"He bought us less than two minutes."

"But those two minutes allowed us to escape the first ring of guards."

Harry remained silent.

Wars were often decided not by glorious victories, but by ordinary men and women willing to give everything so someone else could continue.

Arya continued speaking, her voice steady despite the memories she was reliving.

"It happened again before we even reached the outer courtyard."

She paused, searching through names she had carried in her heart for decades.

"Sila stayed behind next."

A faint smile appeared on her face.

"She was our finest archer."

"I once saw her strike a bird in flight from so far away that I thought she had missed."

The smile faded.

"When we reached the courtyard, she climbed onto the palace walls while the rest of us crossed."

"She covered our retreat."

Arya closed her eyes.

"Her arrows never missed."

"By the time the Empire realized she was alone..."

"...we were already gone."

"There wasn't time to mourn," Arya said quietly.

"Every few streets we were forced to split apart."

"Every few streets another friend volunteered."

"No one hesitated."

"They already knew what had to be done."

"We all understood that returning alive was unlikely."

She looked toward the dragon eggs surrounding them.

"But if even one dragon egg escaped Galbatorix..."

"...then perhaps the future would survive with it."

She let out a long breath.

"There was Doran."

"He collapsed an entire bridge after we crossed it."

"He buried himself together with dozens of imperial soldiers."

"There was Kael."

"He challenged a company of guards alone in one of the market squares."

"There was Elyna."

"Our youngest mage."

"She sealed an entire tunnel with stone."

"The collapse trapped her inside."

Arya's voice never wavered.

"Eighteen people."

She looked down at her hands.

"Eighteen extraordinary people."

"They all made exactly the same choice."

"The stories always say that Brom and I stole the dragon egg from Galbatroix," Arya said at last.

A small, melancholy smile touched her lips.

"That has never been true."

She slowly shook her head.

"Twenty people stole that egg."

"Eighteen simply never returned to claim the credit."

For an elf, memory carried enormous meaning.

"Neither Brom nor I looked particularly heroic by the time we left the Empire behind."

"Our clothes were torn."

"We had barely any food."

"We'd gone days without proper sleep or rest."

She smiled at the memory.

"The dragon egg itself wasn't especially heavy."

"But after everything that had happened..."

"...it felt as though I carried the hopes of the entire Varden."

Harry understood exactly what she meant.

"We traveled mostly at night," Arya continued.

"The Empire searched every road, so we abandoned them entirely."

"We crossed forests where no proper paths existed."

"We climbed mountains simply because no one expected anyone carrying a dragon egg to attempt such routes."

"There were rivers so cold that Brom could barely stand afterward."

"There were days when neither of us spoke more than a few words."

"We simply kept walking."

Mella looked at her with admiration.

"You never thought about giving up?"

Arya smiled softly.

"There wasn't anything to give up."

"If we stopped..."

"...everyone who had died behind us would have died for nothing."

Arya's expression softened as she remembered the faces waiting there.

"I'll never forget that day."

"When we finally arrived..."

"...people simply stared."

She laughed quietly.

"At first, no one believed what they were seeing."

"Then someone shouted that we had succeeded."

"The entire camp came running."

Her silver eyes reflected the emerald light surrounding them.

"I had never seen so many grown men and women cry."

"They weren't crying because all those who died."

"They were crying because, for the first time in generations..."

"...there was hope."

She turned slowly toward the countless dragon eggs resting peacefully around the cavern.

"I truly believed everything would change."

Her smile lingered for another moment before fading.

"And I believed..."

"...that the dragon would choose me."

The words were spoken so quietly that they almost disappeared into the silence of the cavern.

"I carried that egg everywhere."

"It never left my side."

"When I slept, it rested beside my bed."

"I spoke to it every morning."

"I wished it good night every evening."

"I polished its shell."

"I protected it."

"I waited."

Her eyes grew distant once more.

"Every morning I woke believing that perhaps today would be different."

"Perhaps today it would move."

"Perhaps today..."

"...it would choose."

She smiled sadly.

"It never did."

After nearly an entire year.

The egg remained as silent as stone.

Eventually the council reached a decision.

"The Varden wasn't ruled by one person," Arya said quietly.

"The council reminded me that the dragon egg belonged to everyone."

"They were right."

"No matter how much it hurt..."

"...I had no right to keep it forever."

She lowered her gaze.

"So I returned it."

The egg continued its long journey through Alagaësia, passing from elves to humans, from humans to dwarves, then back again, always searching for the Rider it wished to choose.

"And every time it needed an escort," Arya admitted with an embarrassed smile, "I volunteered."

Harry couldn't help smiling.

"I always invented some reason."

"A diplomatic mission."

"A military escort."

"A courier assignment."

"I only wanted one more chance."

She looked toward Harry, then toward the trunk that now held eleven dragon eggs within it.

"The last I heard, it had been entrusted to the dwarves."

"They hoped one of their young warriors might be chosen."

She released a slow breath and smiled with quiet acceptance.

"Eventually..."

"I accepted that perhaps becoming a Dragon Rider simply wasn't part of my destiny."

The words echoed gently through the ancient cavern.

Sometimes fate had a habit of arriving only after someone had finally stopped waiting for it.