Prologue
Something was wrong.
Arya stopped, her companions reining in their horses alongside her. The night was completely silent, but for the faint breeze rustling the canopy of the forest high up above. No screeching, no chirping, no noise.
The sound of a stick snapping resounded between the trees. The wind changed, carrying the stench of urgal on it; the horses growing wild.
A shout rose, and a rider turned his horse and bolted back along the path, crying for support from the forest patrols. Violent, angry sounds came from the underbrush; urgals wielding bows.
The archers began to loose their arrows. They met only the escorts' large shields, clanging loudly against the metal. The riders turned, spurring the horses into gallop straight into the archers, riding them down and scattering them. Grunts followed, and-
The dull thump of an axe cleaving flesh and hitting bone, followed by the screaming of a horse. Arya and two of her companions saw the signal given by those engaging in combat, and turned their horses to the road, riding away from the battle hard.
Arrows flew by, one nicking her arm. She hissed in pain, grimacing, but otherwise sparing no time to stop and respond to the ambush in kind. Her mission was of utmost urgency, and was now in extreme danger.
How did urgals penetrate so deeply into Du Weldenvarden?, a voice in the depths of her mind wondered. Her wandering thought was answered a moment later, as a strangely echoing scream could be heard from behind, one seemingly layered with many voices. Arya slowed long enough to turn and look safely, and saw a pale figure with fiery hair engaging her escort. A Shade. She cringed, relieved to have escaped the trap, but pained by the knowledge that others would suffer on her behalf. She quickly checked the laceration on her arm; a minor cut, no damage. And apparently no poison.
She dismissed the injury, deeming it superficial. With great urgency, she spurred her horse forward along the road. It lead east, originating in Osilon and leading to the far eastern edges of the forest. And it was entirely the wrong way to be fleeing in this case. There were few settlements with enough manpower to resist a Shade anywhere nearby along this road, but she had no other option. Getting lost in the wilderness would not save her.
From behind, she heard a roaring of wind as some spell was uttered by someone: the Shade or her escort, Arya did not know. When she spared a glance, she saw wind rushing to quell flames in the distance. Cursing, she turned back to the path, continuing to follow it out of necessity.
She rode hard for hours, one of the benefits of elven horses, before slowing and dismounting, hoping that she was free of pursuit. She checked the pouch at her waist for the tenth time since her escape from the skirmish. It was still there, cool to the touch. The dragon inside slumbered peacefully. Arya tucked away the pouch again, checking her surroundings. The road split up ahead, one branch winding away from her, running parallel to small stream running down the incline. If she remembered her last trip this way correctly, another hour at a decent pace would get her to a small town on the road. She breathed deep, sending out a mental probe in search of other elven minds. She felt some, still some distance away, and clambered back onto her horse.
Within minutes of riding toward the township, she was able to contact the scouts, and warn them of the danger. They acknowledged her message, and another escort was quickly sent to escort her to the village, and messengers sent on their way to the closest towns and cities.
Arya spent the night in the village, resting after her ordeal. She dreamt of that voice, a Shade. Nightmares. He captured her, he tortured her endlessly. Where is the egg? she thought, panicked. It was gone. The Shade tortured her, made her his plaything, and her egg was gone.
She woke with a start to violent shouts; bolting upright to be greeted with the sight of a blaze out the window. Arya heard urgals grunting, and she rushed to the window, still groggy. She could tell that there were far fewer of the beasts than earlier - clearly, her guards had dispatched most of them, but the Shade was far more involved, this time. Words of the ancient tongue streamed from him lips, and the flames spread, blazing anew with the Shade's every breath.
Soon, the urgals were dead, and many of the townsfolk were advancing on the Shade. A few fell to the flames, screaming in agony as the flames turned a searing blue.
Arya wasted no time gaping at the horror. She once again checked that the pouch- the egg, was still at her waist, grabbed her sword and dashed out of the building, fleeing along the southern road.
It stung her heart to leave the hamlet so, to abandon those who willing laid down their lives for her cause, but if she did not, then the egg would be lost, and the sacrifice was all for nothing.
Tears welled in her eyes as she ran, but she set her jaw, resolute.
The forest burned in her wake.