He is a mad elf, utterly mad. But then, are not all the elves mad? Linden is special because he knows he is mad and revels in the knowledge. All the immortals are mad but for dragons, and none of them will acknowledge it, except for Linden. My dear, sweet Linden. And my sister thinks her pet acorn is mad? To a human, maybe, but to be considered so to even elves, it takes much more.

Death. Does he fear death? No. He wants to die, desperately, but neither does he want to stop living. Odd. I suppose that is what atheism does. Or... no. He knows the gods exist. He simply does not think there is an afterlife. I wish I could tell him, but I cannot. I would not know. I have never died. But I hope there is not one.

When the time comes, when I have taken my sister's magic and my brother's, and am capable of the great task I have in mind (But then, is not everything in my mind? Everything…), I shall spare Linden the rest of the land's fate. He does not deserve peace, but I shall grant it to him because he is faithful to me, and because he understands. He understands me, and I love him for it.

Eternal life, invulnerability, are those not such beautiful things? By themselves, perhaps (and maybe not even then), but not together. The dragons know when immortality goes too far. They are wise, and so they will not suffer either. I will make sure of that. But the elves? Pah! They, they are unforgivable. The humans will be included as well, even if their stupidity is truly naivety, and the dwarves. The urgals? ...No. They have never liked the idea of immortality. Invulnerability, yes, but then they would still die when the time came. They, too, are wise in these matters.

The humans, the elves, the dwarves: they think immortality and invulnerability together is a thing to be desired. I wonder, will they believe the same when they truly cannot die?

I was staying towards the edge of the Empire's camp, loafing around and doing nothing in general, when I saw the black smudge in the sky,

It was shiny.

And when I reached out my mind for it, I found that it was Shrew Can (what sort of stupid name is that?) and Gandalf. What were they doing here? Final bosses were just supposed to stay in their castles and wait for the heroes to come and kill them, not the other way around. That's why they're called final bosses.

Oh wait, I didn't need to be worried. I was on their side now.

I told the Mark guy, "Gabriel and Shrew Can are coming."

He started. "What? The king is here?"

"Coming," I corrected. "They're not here yet. Like, they're maybe about a few miles away? Oh wait, never mind, I think they can go at light speed because- You can see them now, can't you? 'Cause if you can't, then you're blind. No offense. At all."

They were circling over the camp, nearly blotting out the sky. That dragon is seriously fat. Then some little red blob flew up to them and landed on Shrew Can's back. Talos, probably. I kept on feeling like I recognized the name… It sounded pretty cool though, wherever it was from.

Then they landed about a mile outside the camp near me, and I flew over and landed in front of Shrew Can.

The dragon looked at me and snorted some smoke (I know alliteration, yay!). Then he pretended to trip and nearly accidentally stepped on me on purpose, but I ran out of the way before his foot came down.

There were already soldiers running out and crowding around the big dragon. Why is everyone so fast? I mean, Shrew Can flew like ten miles in half a second and then all these soldiers run one mile in about one minute. I can only run a mile in twenty minutes. Stupid light-speed soldiers. Or maybe it's just I'm really slow on my feet. Probably both.

Gables clambered down Shrew Can and dropped to the ground. The soldiers stopped chattering and scrambled out of the way as he marched through the mob. Mark and some shorty went over to meet him. Then I saw the hammer in the shorty's belt and his red beard, and realized he was a dwarf. The beard was a dead giveaway.

Mark and the dwarf and Gabriella mysteriously vanished, and the crowd hung around for a bit before drifting off. Shrew Can lay down and played with Talos while pretending hard to make it look like he wasn't playing.

A few hours of boringness later (I was actually about to find a place to go to sleep, since it was nearly midnight), Shrew Can told me to get over there. Talos was asleep next to him, with his head on a big glowing orange rock. He looked adorable, really, except the orange rock was a bit weird.

"You," said Shrew Can, "are an untrustworthy git. I still do not know why we let you switch sides."

"Gee, thanks."

"Our soldiers will attack at dawn. They will split in two and go around the Burning Plains. Alberto and I-"

"Who?"

"Galbatorix and I," he corrected, "will stay back here until the two armies engage before helping. You will be going with Talos. The two of you are to engage Saphira and her rider in the air until we get there. These are your orders. You will obey them. If you do not, then Talos knows what to do. You must also make sure that your battle is in the air. Do whatever you can to provoke them into following you."

"Yeah, I know." That was going to be easy, at least. Saphira was probably going to go into berserker mode or something when she'd seen me change sides. Actually, I didn't know if it would be Saphira or Eragon who would be worse. But Eragon was an idiot anyways. He deserved it, sending me on an assassin mission. Wait, didn't they say it was Pigeon's idea? They're all idiots then.

"Nuanen will accompany you."

"Her? Are you serious?"

Shrew Can glared at me.

"Okay yes you are serious. Fine, I'll go with her, but I call narrator. Where's Murtagh going to be? I feel like everyone's forgotten about him."

"Murtagh," said Shrew Can, "is a fine warrior, but a terrible soldier. Aristocrats generally are. Talos is large enough to carry him right now, but it would not be advisable, because he has grown too quickly for him to adapt and an added weight would only slow him down. In a few more weeks, perhaps, when Talos is old enough to carry him, Murtagh will useful on a battlefield. Not now. He will stay behind in the camp with Marc and Dolk."

"Who's Dork?" I mean, who names their kid Dork? It's like naming a kid Galbatorix. You don't name someone Dork unless you want them to grow up stupid.

"Dolk, with an L," Shrew Can corrected. Oh, okay, that makes more sense. I'm still going to call him Dork, though. It's easier to remember. "He's our best strategist. He used to be the same rank as Marc, but we demoted him. He's the dwarf, by the way."

"Why did a dwarf join you guys?"

"Because he could," said Shrew Can. "Leave now."

I did.

End of part one.