Chapter Four

The Egg-Guardian

Two days later, a group of riders met in Ilirea, the white, towered city that was their capital. Among them was Yansan the elder, who was a member of the council of elders that led the riders. The others were younger riders, recently returned from the various cities where they had supervised the trials. Carina was among them, with Leaf standing behind her like a second shadow. Every one of the riders carried a sheaf of papers – written reports describing each of the candidates they had tested. One by one they read these reports aloud for Yansan's benefit, and he would select one or two from each group that interested him. Those not named were put aside. When it was Carina's turn, she kept one report till last. Before reading it, she said; 'Now, this last candidate was very, very interesting.'

'Was that the one who let the wild dragon out?' the rider next to her asked.

Carina nodded. 'His name is Arren Cardockson. He's very talented indeed. In fact, disturbingly so.'

'Explain,' said Yansan. Behind him his partner, the brown dragon with the unpronounceable name of Raluvimbha, raised her head to listen.

Carina straightened out the piece of parchment, and read it. 'Uh, let me see here… fighting skills, very impressive. He was the only candidate who managed to get the better of his opponent. His hand-to-hand combat is quite good. Doubtless once he's had training, I mean, if he has training, he'll prove talented with a sword. Endurance is also good. He gave intelligent and insightful answers to the written exam; not a bad mind at all. He passed the compassion test with flying colours – showed concern, was gentle and also confronted Leaf for scaring the child.'

'He showed no fear of me,' Leaf put in.

The other riders murmured, impressed.

'How did he go on the final trial?' Yansan enquired.

'Ah. The final trial,' said Carina. 'That was where he really impressed me. His innate psychic abilities were… astonishingly well-developed. He managed to form a mental link with the dragon almost instantly. And he managed to calm her down and win her trust, and this was after she'd attacked him and nearly killed the previous candidate.'

'And then he let her out of the cage,' another rider finished.

'Yes,' said Carina. 'I questioned him carefully afterwards, and he told me that she asked him to do it.'

'So he released a wild dragon in a foul temper?' the rider next to her said. 'The boy is an idiot.'

'That's what I thought,' said Carina. 'But that doesn't measure up to the intelligence he displayed earlier. He was impulsive, certainly, but he told me he made the dragon promise not to attack before he let her out. And I know he was telling the truth, because when I tried to interfere she threatened to kill me and would have done it if he hadn't stopped her. He told her to let me go because she'd promised him that she would, and she did as he asked. We let her go, and she left peacefully.'

Several of the other riders exclaimed out loud. 'You mean he managed to control a wild dragon?' one said. 'How big was it?'

'Nearly as big as Leaf,' said Carina. 'Yes, he controlled her. He has a very impressive way with words, and though he's a quiet sort he has a lot of natural authority when he wants to.'

She had said her piece and, falling silent, waited for Yansan to speak.

The other rider looked thoughtful. 'So what is your judgement, Carina?'

'I think we should accept him,' she answered at once. 'The boy is a natural. I wouldn't be surprised if he became an elder one day.'

Several other riders nodded. Yansan frowned. 'I don't know,' he said. 'Talent that great can be dangerous. If we accept him and he becomes one of us, he will need… we will have to provide him with a lot of guidance. Carina, do you feel able to do this?'

Carina started. 'But Lord Yansan… I am not an elder.'

'No,' said Yansan. 'But you will still be called upon to provide advice to the new apprentices and act as an emotional support for them. And if you decide to vouch for this boy and he is accepted, it will be your duty to do this for him.'

Carina nodded. 'I'll accept the responsibility, Lord.'

'Then we will accept him,' said Yansan.

A week after the trials, Galbatorix sat out the front of his home and scratched at the bandage on his chest. He'd refused to let Carina heal the tears left by Illia's claws. He wanted them to heal naturally. He knew that this would leave him scarred for life, but that was what he wanted. Not many people had been scarred by a dragon, and he wanted to keep these as proof. Even if he never became a rider, he would be able to show them to his grandchildren. He would also be able to show them the gift he'd been given before leaving the Palace. It was a small amulet in the shape of a dragon with its wings spread. It was made of cheap iron rather than silver, and the glass jewel set into it had fallen out almost immediately, leaving the dragon with a hollow socket in place of an eye, but he'd strung it on a piece of leather thong and was wearing it even now. Most likely it would be the only thing he'd get from the riders. He hadn't forgotten the stern looks Carina had given him, and her warnings about how dangerously he'd behaved. For a while he'd deluded himself that he could, after all, be chosen, but by now he'd shed that illusion. It wasn't a good feeling to know that he'd lost the best chance he'd ever be likely to have. Now that he was doomed to be powerless all his life, what could he do? Move away, most likely. Go somewhere where no-one knew him and start a new life. And he wouldn't talk about the past. But sometimes, perhaps, he would tell people about how he almost became a rider. He'd show them the scars and the amulet, and they'd be impressed and ask questions. It would be the only respect he ever got, most likely.

As if in order to prove him embarrassingly wrong, it was at that very moment that he saw someone coming toward him. It wasn't anyone he recognised or was particularly curious to see. It was a middle-aged man, plainly dressed and carrying a scroll of paper in his hand. The man came toward him from off the street, and Galbatorix stood up to meet him.

'Excuse me,' said the man. 'I'm looking for…' he glanced at the scroll. '…someone called Arren Cardockson.'

'That's me,' said Galbatorix.

'Ah. Good,' said the man. 'This is for you.' He held out the scroll.

Galbatorix took it and unrolled it without much interest. The writing on it was neat and ornamented, and he had a little trouble making out the words. He read it. Then he read it again. He read it a third time, still not quite sure of what he'd read. But the words were the same every time he read them.

To Arren Cardockson of Teirm. This is to inform you that you have been selected to go to Ellesméra in two days time where you will be given the opportunity to handle the dragon eggs and possibly find your partner among them. Come to the Palace at dawn on the Day of the Finding of the First Egg, and be prepared for a long journey. Your means of travelling will be provided, along with provisions. Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass

Underneath that was a picture of a dragon with outspread wings – the emblem of the riders. Galbatorix stared blankly at it for some time, and then ran inside.

Two days later Galbatorix packed a bag with his few worldly possessions – mostly clothes – said goodbye to his foster parents and left home forever. He went to the Palace at dawn on the Day of the Finding of the First Egg, also known as Finding Day, which was a day named in honour of when the first rider, Eragon, found a dragon egg. Two weeks later there would be the Day of the First Hatching, which was a day set aside for celebrations and feasting. On reaching the Palace and being met by Carina herself, he discovered that he had been the only candidate selected.

'Surprised?' Carina asked him warmly.

'Yes,' he admitted.

'Don't be,' said Carina. 'You did magnificently well at the trials. Lord Yansan was very impressed by my report.'

'Lord Yansan saw it?' said Galbatorix, taken aback.

'But of course,' said Carina. 'One of the elders always goes over the reports before we pick the candidates. They have to be approved first, you see. Now, then, have you got all your things together?'

Galbatorix nodded, stifling a yawn.

'Didn't sleep last night?' said Carina.

Galbatorix shook his head.

'Not to worry; you'll get plenty of time to rest during the trip,' said Carina. 'Come with me.'

She led him through the Palace and through a back door into a private section of street. A large wagon was standing ready, two horses harnessed to it, and a group of twenty well-armed mounted soldiers were waiting by it. 'These will be your escort,' said Carina, indicating them. 'They'll protect you in case of an ambush. And Leaf and I will be flying overhead. If anything happens, we'll take care of it.'

'Are you really expecting us to be attacked?' asked Galbatorix, eyeing the guards' spears and swords.

'It's unlikely,' said Carina. 'But it pays to be careful. There could be urgals about. If that happens, just do as your escort tells you. They're well-trained.'

The nearest guard nodded. 'We know what we're doing, lad,' he said. 'You can trust us.'

Galbatorix nodded and climbed into the wagon without argument. It was very comfortable inside; heaps of cushions had been put in there for him to sit on, and there was also a stack of clean blankets and plenty of food, including a barrel of apples – something very expensive and hard to come by in the city. He helped himself to one and settled down on the cushions to eat it. The journey began.

The journey to Ellesméra was a long one. For two weeks Galbatorix and his escort travelled – passing through the mountains of the Spine by following the river that flowed through it, and then setting out over the plains. They travelled via several different cities, since the main trade routes which linked them were the safest and a city meant being able to sleep under a roof for the night. The rest of the time Galbatorix would sleep in the wagon while the guards set up tents outside. They were all very polite and respectful toward him; frequently asking him if there was anything he needed, and then practically falling over themselves to provide it if there was. At first he found this embarrassing, but once he got used to it he found he rather enjoyed it. Of course, if he became a rider – when he became a rider, he corrected himself – he would get this sort of treatment all the time. It would be a change from having to run errands and putting up with rude customers and being spat upon for being a bastard. Riders got respect.

He didn't see much of Carina during the journey. While they were on the move she and Leaf spent all their time in the air, and when they stopped the two of them would fly on to check the land ahead and often didn't come back until Galbatorix was already asleep. He was a little frustrated by this, since the rider and her dragon fascinated him and he kept wanting to learn more about them. He had hoped to have the chance to speak with them again, but this was denied him and they both remained distant, mysterious figures to him, flitting in and out of his life like a pair of butterflies.

He spent most of the journey reading. A stack of books had been provided for him – a couple of them were collections of short stories and poems, but most were about the dragon riders, and he read these with the most interest. He could read fairly fluently, but there hadn't been much reading material back at his old home. Mostly he'd just read accounts and orders. But now he'd discovered books and how fascinating and absorbing they could be, and he loved it. He could practically feel his mind expanding to accommodate all this new information it was taking in. It made him realise just how big a place really Alagaësia was, when he started to learn about its history. And, he determined, he would be a part of it one day. He would not fade away into obscurity. Somehow or other, he would make his mark. And one day he would be written about in books like these. It would be a glorious thing.

When the two weeks were up and the journey ended, it seemed far too soon. They entered the forest of Du Weldenvarden by a secret track, and on the evening of the Day of the First Hatching they arrived in Ellesméra.

The elvish city was, quite simply, the most beautiful thing that Galbatorix had ever seen. He jumped down from the wagon, holding his little bag of belongings in one hand, and looked around him with wonder. There were no buildings in Ellesméra. Huge trees grew everywhere in the valley, and though they initially looked ordinary a second glance revealed doors and windows set into their trunks. They hadn't been cut into the wood, either – they had a smooth, organic shape which suggested that they had, somehow, been persuaded to grow there. The trees themselves were perfectly healthy. So was all the other plant life that grew around them. Bushes, grass, flowers… all were luxuriously green, and none grew in rows. The air sparkled with golden pollen. On the lawn at the centre of the valley a long table had been set up, and plates piled high with food were laid on it. Around it people had gathered and were eating and chatting amongst themselves. Some were human. But most of them were elves. Galbatorix had never seen an elf before, and now he did he was surprised. They looked basically human, but they were taller, slimmer, more graceful and lithe. Their skin was paler, their eyes elegantly slanted and their ears pointed. Galbatorix watched them uncertainly – was this what his father had been like? He'd always imagined that his father was rougher and somehow more dangerous-looking.

His arrival didn't go unnoticed, even though there were a lot of people coming and going in the valley. When he got down out of the wagon, he suddenly found himself being greeted by four other humans of about his age. 'Hi!' one of them said. 'Welcome to Ellesméra!'

'Uh, hello,' said Galbatorix. He examined the little group. Three of them were boys, and the fourth was a girl. She, he couldn't help but notice, had long, light-brown hair, bright blue eyes and a mischievous smile. For some reason the sight of her made him feel a little nervous. She saw him looking, and smirked. He wrenched his gaze away from her and looked at the three boys without as much interest. Two of them were wearing little dragon amulets like his own, he realised. 'Are you-?' he said.

'Yep,' said one boy, nodding cheerily. 'Candidates just like you. I got here yesterday.'

'I've been here a week,' said the girl.

The boy who had nodded held out a hand. 'Pleased to meet you,' he said. 'My name's Brom.'

Galbatorix shook his hand. 'I'm – Arren.' The lie got harder to tell all the time.

The girl came forward. 'Nice to meet you, Arren,' she said. 'I'm Flell. Where're you from?'

'Teirm,' Galbatorix blurted.

'Are you the one who pulled that stunt with the dragon?' one of the other boys asked.

'Wh – you know about that?' said Galbatorix.

'Everyone does,' said Flell, smiling. 'You're famous, man.'

'Oh,' said Galbatorix. He wasn't sure what else to say.

'You must have been mad,' said Brom, but he didn't look as if he meant it. On the contrary, he looked highly impressed.

'It's no wonder they chose you,' said one of the so-far unnamed boys. He was heavily built with a square jaw, and reminded Galbatorix of Tommen. 'I'm Morzan.'

Galbatorix shook Morzan's hand, and then turned to the third boy. 'And you?' he asked.

'Berim,' the boy answered. 'I'm from Gil'ead, me. Ever been there?'

'I stopped there on the way,' said Galbatorix. 'It looked like a nice place.'

'No way,' said Berim. 'Dead boring, Gil'ead. Personally I'm hopin' to get picked this evening. Much more excitin' life, being a rider, right?'

'This evening?' said Galbatorix. 'The egg ceremony is this evening?'

'It certainly is,' said Brom. 'It's traditional for it to be today. You got here just in time.'

'Come on,' said Flell. 'Come and try the food. It's scrummy.'

Galbatorix pulled himself together. He handed his bag to one of his guards, and went with his fellow candidates to the food table. There he was more than happy to help himself to anything that looked tasty – in other words, everything except the spinach – and talk to the other partygoers. The elves made him welcome and asked his name and where he was from, and he quickly found that word of his actions in Teirm had indeed spread. Quite suddenly he found that he was a semi-celebrity – everyone he spoke to wanted to hear the full story of how he had faced down a wild dragon all on his own and with no prior training or experience. After this had happened for the third time, he came to see what he'd done in a different light. Before he'd thought of it as madness mixed with plain stupidity, but now he found out that other people regarded him as something of a hero. It was a good feeling.

Later, about an hour before the sun was due to set, a stately female elf who looked as if she was in charge announced that it was nearly time for the ceremony to begin and that the candidates should go to their appointed quarters and prepare. Galbatorix was led to the small tree-house where he would be staying, and there told to have a bath and change of clothes. His bag had already been brought in for him and placed on the bed, and he sat down next to it and took in his surroundings. The elvish house was astonishingly luxurious, especially considering that this one was only a small one for guests. The bedding was thick and soft, the walls, roof and ceiling finely-carved (or, he couldn't help but suspect, finely-grown), and everything was highly ornate and decorated. Galbatorix was deeply impressed. Clearly, these elves knew about the finer things in life.

There was an adjoining room next to the bed-chamber, with a deep stone-lined pit in the floor. This had been filled with hot water, and there were towels, soap and some kind of herbal shampoo. Galbatorix bathed, very glad to wash away the dirt he'd collected during the trip. For some reason, in spite of his upbringing in a grubby city, he'd always hated dirt. Evidently the elves felt the same way, since he'd never seen a bathtub actually built into a house like this. Then again, perhaps every wealthy person had one. He had no way of knowing.

Once he was clean and had wrapped himself in a towel, he opened his bag and looked through it for a decent set of clothes. But what he'd brought with him suddenly looked very plain and shabby indeed. The idea of appearing at the egg ceremony in his patched old tunic was frankly humiliating. But what choice did he have? He looked around unhappily, and noticed a door in the opposite wall. It was slightly ajar, and when he went to have a closer look he discovered it was a wardrobe. Inside were several sets of clothes, all about his size. He brightened up – this was more like it. He flicked through the clothes, looking for something that would suit him, and finally chose a set of long, elegant black robes trimmed with silver. He'd always preferred to dress in black. So he put on the robes, along with his old boots, since the soft elvish shoes provided didn't appeal to him. Fully dressed, with his hair neatly combed, he went to examine himself in the full-length mirror set into the wall. Mirrors were extremely expensive, and only the wealthy could afford them, so he'd never seen himself properly before. Now he did, he was both surprised and impressed. What he saw was a tall, skinny teenage boy with a pale, angular face. His features were pointed and intelligent, and very slightly odd. There was something in them that wasn't quite human, but he wasn't certain of just what it was. The eyes were jet-black and vaguely unsettling, and since he hadn't cut his hair in a long time it had grown down to his shoulders and looked like a mane. Clad in these finely-tailored robes, he looked bigger than he really was, and grand as well.

He admired himself in the mirror for some time before he realised he was doing it, and then turned away, feeling embarrassed. But he couldn't resist another glance or two before he finally left the house.

Outside he found the other candidates standing ready by the feasting-table. They were all wearing new and more expensive outfits, and were pale with excitement. Galbatorix went straight to Flell. She looked him up and down. 'You cleaned up nicely,' she said.

'So did you,' said Galbatorix. He paused. 'How do I look?'

'Like a giant bat,' said Flell, grinning.

'At least I don't look like a giant butterfly,' Galbatorix retorted. Somewhere inside he couldn't quite believe he was actually being teased by a girl and teasing her back. But it was true that Flell looked like a giant butterfly. She'd put on a rather nice light blue gown decorated with white and pale pink gauze and trimmed with gold.

For some reason Flell seemed to find this flattering. 'You're quite the charmer, aren't you?' she said, giggling.

'So, are you excited?' said Brom, breaking into the conversation. For some reason, Galbatorix immediately wanted to kill him.

'What?' he said, irritably.

'I said, are you excited?' said Brom. He seemed completely oblivious.

'Yes,' said Galbatorix. 'And you?'

'Arren, I think these boots I'm wearing at the only thing keeping my feet on the ground right now,' said Brom. He had an honest, cheerful face and an easy smile.

Galbatorix grunted and turned away to speak to Flell again. But she'd started talking to Morzan. Crestfallen, he waited in silence with his fellow candidates until an elf approached them. With him were a group of other elves, all teenagers.

'Now then,' the elf said once he'd reached them. 'These are the elvish candidates, who will be participating in the egg ceremony with you. I will lead the way to the Egg-Guardian's house, but before we go I have a few things to say.'

Galbatorix and his fellow humans listened closely.

'The Egg-Guardian is very old,' the elf told them. 'Nearly as old as the riders themselves. You will therefore treat her with great respect. If you are not chosen, you will be gracious about it. Those who are chosen will stay here in Ellesméra to begin their training. The rest will be sent home and compensated for their troubles. Now, come with me.'

He walked off, and the candidates, elves and humans both, followed him. Galbatorix could feel his heart pounding, so hard he was afraid it was going to burst through his ribs. This was it.

They walked through the valley and then turned West, into the forest and uphill until they reached a high, secluded place where the trees thinned out. There was a small house there. This one was not grown into a treetrunk, but was a much more conventional thing built of stone and wood. Behind it was a grove of trees, and in front was a wide patch of bare grass dotted with flowers. The candidates were led to the front door of the house, and there the Egg-Guardian was waiting for them. She was an elf, of course, and though like all elves she had a youthful face it was plain that she was very old. There were faint lines around her eyes, and her hair was pure white and very slightly curly. She wore a green robe embroidered with gold, and around her neck was an amulet in the shape of a pair of hands cupped around an egg.

Their guide led them straight to her and then departed without a word, leaving the candidates alone with the Egg-Guardian. She looked at them for a time, apparently summing them up, and then said; 'Well now. Welcome to my home. My name is Einás Egg-Guardian, as you all know, and I am pleased to meet you. Before we begin, I would like you to give me your names. You first.' She nodded to Brom.

'My name is Brom, Egg-Guardian,' said Brom, bowing.

'Good, and you?' said Einás, turning to Morzan.

'Morzan,' said Morzan.

'And you?' said Einás, to Galbatorix.

He was going to say "Arren", of course, but in the split second between the asking of the question and his reply he suddenly found that he couldn't. 'My name is Galbatorix,' he replied without thinking.

Einás looked searchingly at him for a few seconds, her dark eyes suddenly narrowing a little. Galbatorix stared back calmly. The moment passed, and the Egg-Guardian began inviting the other candidates to give their names. Once this was done she said; 'As most of you know, my father Eragon was the first of the riders. And when he defeated the evil Taranis and his black dragon he established the riders as a force for good in the world. You are chosen to carry on that great tradition. Even if you are not bonded to a dragon today, you are still good and gifted people, for you were thought worthy of coming here today. Now I shall bring out the eggs, and be quiet and respectful, for many of them are older than you are.'

Galbatorix stared at her in amazement. Could she actually be Eragon's daughter? Of course, everyone knew elves were immortal, but if she was Eragon's daughter then she had to be about a thousand years old. The idea of it made him look on the white-haired elf with a great deal more respect. The negative mention of Taranis made him uncomfortable, even though he was already well aware of his long-dead ancestor's evil reputation. He was the only known rider in history to be bonded to a black dragon and, as Angela had said, he'd been responsible for a great deal of destruction in his time. Still, his line was greatly respected nowadays, since his daughter had married the son of King Paelis and many of their descendants had gone on to do great things. Galbatorix could take comfort from that.

Her piece said, Einás retreated into her home. She returned carrying a large wooden chest, which she placed on a low table that had been set up on the lawn. She removed the lid, and inside, nestled amongst a heap of clean straw, were the eggs. Galbatorix leant forward for a closer look, his heart pounding. The eggs were very large, larger than he'd expected. They looked like polished oval stones, each one a different colour. Green, blue, yellow, red, brown, purple, orange… every colour of the rainbow. One was metallic gold, and Galbatorix looked at this one with the most interest. If any dragon chose him, he hoped it would be the gold one. Gold dragons were among the most beautiful of all. Einás beckoned to the nearest candidate; a green-eyed female elf. The candidate came forward. 'Pick up each of the eggs in turn,' Einás told her. 'Feel them, and let them feel you. If the egg contains your dragon, it will stir and you will know it. Take your time.'

The elf nodded and picked up the nearest egg. She held it for a minute or two, apparently waiting for any hint of movement. Eventually she put it back and selected another one, and the other candidates watched as she handled each egg in turn. But none of them gave any signs of hatching, and once she had put down the last one in defeat she returned silently to her place among the other candidates. Galbatorix watched her with some sympathy, hoping like mad that the same thing wouldn't happen to him.

'Next,' said Einás.

Another elf came forward. He tried three eggs, none of which hatched, and then picked up the gold one. After he had held it for a few seconds, his expression changed. 'It moved!' he cried. 'Einás, it moved!'

'Wonderful!' said the Egg-Guardian. 'Congratulations, you've been chosen. Sit with the egg and wait for it to hatch. We shall watch.'

Galbatorix looked on as the other candidate obeyed, torn between disappointment and excitement. The elf sat cross-legged, placing the egg on the ground in front of him. It lay there, rocking gently from side to side. Galbatorix listened closely, and heard faint squeaks coming from it. The dragon had awoken.

The candidates and the Egg-Guardian all watched in silence, and the golden egg's rocking motion became more violent. Flakes of shell started to break away. The elf whom it was hatching for kept his hands over the egg without actually touching it, his eyes shining with excitement. At last the egg split apart, and the hatchling emerged, sprawling on the grass, its limbs all floppy and slimy. It was the same metallic gold colour as its egg had been, and surprisingly large given the size of the egg. It lay still, gasping for breath, and then started to drag itself toward the elf.

'Touch him,' Einás whispered. 'Forge the bond.'

The candidate glanced quickly at her, and then reached out toward the dragon, palm-first. The dragon raised its head to look at it. It sniffed at the hand, and then poked it with its snout. The instant they made contact the candidate cried out in pain. Galbatorix started nervously – the sudden breaking of what had been a reverential silence had caught him off-guard.

The candidate clutched at his hand, wincing, and then looked at the palm. Galbatorix, craning his neck to see, saw a faint silver circle appear on the elf's skin. It got brighter, and then settled in place, and now the elf's hand was marked with a shining silver circle. It was a gedwëy ignaesia – the rider's mark, identical to the one he had seen on Carina's palm. The elf looked at it for a few moments, and then scooped the golden dragon into his arms and hugged it. The dragon appeared to like this; it snuggled against his chest and rubbed its head against his cheek, crooning softly.

'Care for him well,' Einás said. 'He is your partner, bonded to your soul. With him at

your side you will go on to do great things.'

The elf nodded and returned to his place, where his fellow candidates immediately gathered around for a look at the hatchling.

'Next,' said Einás, breaking it up.

The next candidate came forward. And then the next. And then others, one by one. Two more eggs hatched, but the rest were disappointed. Berim's turn came, but none of the eggs hatched for him. Morzan was next, and he was chosen by a red dragon. Then Flell went forward. A pale purple egg hatched for her, and she returned to her place, laughing out loud in joy, the hatchling perched on her shoulder.

Then it was Galbatorix's turn. He walked toward the box of eggs, feeling as if the bones in his legs had dissolved. For some reason, the few steps it took to get there felt very long. For a moment he had the irrational fear that it would never end, and that he'd spend the rest of his life walking toward the spot where Einás waited, her face kind and sad at the same time.

But then he was there, standing over the box and looking down upon the eggs, with the odd sensation of having just woken up in some way. He glanced up at Einás, as if waiting for permission to begin. She smiled on him. 'Don't be shy,' she said. 'Pick one up.'

Encouraged, Galbatorix started to reach for an egg. Then he paused. Which one should he try first? For some reason that seemed terribly important. He cast his eyes briefly over the shining eggshells. There were two red ones left, and some green and yellow and three brown ones. There was only one egg which didn't share its colour with any of the others. It was ivory white, and stood out amongst its fellows like a pearl in a bouquet of flowers. It was unique, and all alone. Galbatorix didn't hesitate any longer. He picked it up.

The instant he made contact with the shell, he felt a faint, electric thrill move through his fingers. It was only a slight tingling sensation, but it went straight up his arm and into his brain and made the back of his neck prickle. He straightened up, cupping the egg in his hands, and watched it closely. The egg was still for a time. Then it started to move. Gently at first, then more and more powerfully. Squeaks came from inside it. Galbatorix sat down sharply with the egg in his lap, and felt his heart soar inside him. It was hatching. It was hatching for him. His dream was coming true before his eyes.

The egg's shell started to flake away. It moved, paused, and moved again. Galbatorix couldn't bear to wait. He pulled bits of the shell away, helping the dragon break out, and once he'd made a hole big enough he hooked his fingers into it and broke the egg open. The hatchling spilled out onto his lap. It was pure white, and slender, writhing with life. Galbatorix didn't hesitate. He placed his hand on the dragon's head. The effect was instantaneous. Pain shot through him. Icy-cold, tingling, searing. It bit into his hand, moved up his arm and made a determined assault on his mind. He could feel himself expanding, mentally and physically. It was like what he had felt when he communicated with Illia, only a hundred times more powerful. Unlike the other candidates he didn't take his hand away; he kept it where it was until the pain subsided and the bond had been forged. Then he took it away and looked at his palm. Sure enough, it was now marked with a gedwëy ignaesia. He was a rider.

The white dragon looked up at him. Its eyes were bright silver, and disconcertingly alert.

'A white dragon is among the most powerful,' said Einás, from somewhere very far away. 'You are fortunate, Galbatorix.'

Galbatorix stood up, hugging the dragon to his chest, and returned to his place among the other candidates. He felt different now. Calmer. More certain. And he felt stronger too. He was a rider. From now on, he would never be alone again. He had found his life's partner, a companion for his soul. He was a rider.

The testing of the other candidates continued, but Galbatorix hardly paid attention. His mind was on his dragon and nothing else.

'Good for you, buddy,' said Berim, reaching over to scratch the white hatchling's stubby horns. 'She's a pretty one, isn't she?'

'Yeah,' said Galbatorix. 'I'm really sorry you didn't get chosen, Berim.'

Berim shrugged. 'You win some, you lose some,' he said. 'Life goes on.'

Galbatorix chuckled. He wished he could be this optimistic, but it seemed Berim had a gift there that he didn't.

'Yeah, well done,' said Morzan. His own dragon stretched her neck over his arm and sniffed at the other hatchling, who touched noses with her and cheeped.

'How d'you feel?' asked Brom. He paused for a few seconds, and added; 'Galbatorix?'

'Yeah, what's with that?' said Berim. 'I thought you said your name was Arren.'

'Oh,' said Galbatorix. 'Well… Galbatorix is my true name.'

Brom's eyes widened. 'You already know your true name?' he said. 'You must be crazy, going around and saying it for everyone to hear.'

Galbatorix was confused for a second, and then realised what the other boy meant. An important principle of magic was knowing the true names of things. Every person had a true name as well, though they were very hard to find out, and once you knew your own you had to keep it a secret at all costs. If someone else knew your true name, they could use it to control you.

'No, no,' he said. 'That's not what I meant.'

'Well what do you mean, then?' asked Morzan.

'I'm an orphan,' said Galbatorix. 'My foster parents called me Arren, but my real parents called me Galbatorix.'

'Oh, I get it,' said Brom. 'That's interesting.'

'What happened to your real parents?' said Morzan.

Galbatorix said nothing, and the other rider went quiet.

Then it was Brom's turn to step forward. Galbatorix watched, hoping he'd be chosen. But he wasn't. Brom handled every egg, but none of them hatched. Unlike Berim he didn't take the rejection well; he cried out in despair and started retrying eggs he'd already handled, but in vain.

'I'm sorry, Brom,' Einás told him gently. 'You are not chosen. Go back and sit down.'

Brom did so, and Galbatorix could see tears on his face. His heart went out to the other boy; he'd taken a liking to Brom, and it was depressing to see him suffer like this.

And then, at last, as the sun finally disappeared below the horizon and the stars began to come out, the ceremony was over. Einás closed the box of eggs, touching each one affectionately before she did so. 'To all of those who have come and been disappointed, I am sorry,' she said. 'And to those who have become riders, let joy reign in your hearts, for from this day you are more than mere men or elves. Go back to your homes and begin your new lives; soon your training in the ways of the riders will begin.' She smiled on the candidates, chosen and rejected alike, and added, 'Sé mor'ranr ono finna. May you find peace.'

Galbatorix and his fellow candidates stood up and bowed to the Egg-Guardian. She smiled and nodded, picked up the box of eggs and retreated into her home. Galbatorix watched her go, and couldn't help but notice how lonely she looked. It occurred to him that it must be hard, to spend so many years watching riders find their dragons but never being chosen yourself. But he couldn't feel sad for too long, in spite of her loneliness and Brom's misery. He walked off back toward the valley with the other candidates, carrying the white dragon in the crook of his arm. She wriggled out of there and climbed onto his shoulder with surprising strength for one so young, her claws digging into his robe, and settled down, nestling into his hair. He could feel her warm weight there, and it brought a rare smile to his face. His dream had come true. The hard work and uncertainty had paid off. He was a rider.