“We should send a raven to Lobo of the Noble Companions!” the First Elder declared. “He placed second in the Tournament of Blade Valley and his honor is as unquestionable as his skills. If we send a request for aid, he would drop it all and come to our aid!”

Some murmurs followed in the Green Hall. Hushed tones of agreement were mixed with feverish rejection and the debate raged on until the Second Elder stood up. “You would trust a wolf with the fate of elves? His honor be damned, the King would punish all wolves if he tried helping us—Lobo wouldn’t be that foolish. ” Thunderous, boisterous agreement followed.

When the First Elder sat down, the Second Elder turned to address the rest of the council. “We should send a raven to Bravo the Dwarf! His magic is impressive and he is not far from us. He will cross the White Forest without trouble and duel Vandyr before winter’s arrival!”

“Nonsense!” shouted the Third Elder. “If our city falls then the dwarves will have uncontested rule over the eastern forests and their influence with the King will rise. Moreover, he only placed fourth in Blade Valley—he would not win against Vandyr!”

The Third Elder took the immediate silence for what it was: agreement with his objection as well as expectancy that he would offer a better solution. His smile showed he had been waiting for this. “Gilver of the Demons, the Champion of the Tournament in Blade Valley. His magic and swordsmanship are the strongest of them all—if anyone can defeat him, it’s him. The man is a mercenary, he would do anything we paid him for!”

Before the first cheer of agreement was even finished, the Fourth Elder rose angrily and slammed his fist against the round table. “Do you speak of dreams when we discuss our doom? Gilver of the Demons, fighting for our cause?” The Fourth Elder’s disgust was plain in his voice. “Do you think it is still the last century? That our noble city is still noble with enough coin to hire the man? He just won the Tournament of Blade Valley—he is richer than this entire village. Call it not a city just because of the height of our walls. There are less and less of us every year—our economy is shattered. We are but a village.”

The First Elder rose. “You speak of gold like a pavement walker!” he spat out. “Shame on you all. Gilver of the Demons is noble, he will accept deferred payment for our cause.”

“Noble? The demon? And you would indenture us to him?” the Fourth Elder snapped back. “Is it not enough to you that we live in debt to the King? Would you have us serve another yet? That is no different from death!”

“Were death our alternative, my friend, I assure you I would take it.” The Third Elder’s voice was grave. “But the Deathless Curse is worse than it. Would you have our sons and daughters live on as Husks of their former selves, just so you can keep your pride?”

“It is not a matter of pride. You are a fool if you think Gilver of the Demons would lift a finger to help us—we need someone else.”

“Who then?” the Third Elder shouted. “We have no one! No one strong enough to fight Vandyr!” The old elf looked around as his compatriots watched him in shock. No one had raised their voice like that in the council in a hundred years—but if he didn’t do it now there would be no voices at all in the future. “You say that Gilver is a long shot—I admit it! You expect me to sit around and speak as though he’s a shining ray of hope? He isn’t. The fucking demon is as likely to take the gold and disappear as he is to help us. But who are our other options? The King has the wolf on a short leash!” His shout echoed in the room. “The dwarf is likely to refuse and likely to lose!” Again, his words echoed loudly. “The demon—fine, he might as well damn us. But what is our alternative? To do nothing? We need a champion to defeat Vandyr, if we are to Chain the Depths once more! There is no good answer. Those are our options and all of them are likely to fail—but it’s better to try than to wait until the Deathless Curse rots our minds! Who else would you request? Elara the Giant?”

Even in their desperation, none dared to even entertain the idea. Some ideas were too foolish to try, even lacking in alternatives. The Third Elder went on. “Well, council! Out of the eight that took part in the Tournament of Blade Valley, only those four are even an option—the others are out of the country or unreachable. Pick thy poison!”

There was a silence in the chamber. The Third Elder could feel eyes upon him, watching. It was almost unbearable to know that they knew he had lost and yet he did not yield. He held firm to the belief that he was right, that his plan must succeed—that failure meant more than death for their people. But even he had little faith in his gamble.

“Ah…the elusive human, so often ignored,” said a new voice. It did not belong to an Elder, and such shattering of tradition was enough to turn heads around. High-ranked elves were allowed in the chamber, but they could not speak. Only the Elders were allowed the privilege. Yet the robed figure went on. “Do you forget Von of Redgrave, the human? He was also one of the eight in the final round of the tournament.”

The Elders all struggled between outrage and guilt.

Anyone else speaking up in the chamber should have been scolded and punished for their sins, but the young man’s current unfortunate state was their fault and he had been promised a place in the council when he got older. It was the Second Elder who spoke first. “What of him?” he asked, in a low tone. “He placed seventh out of the eight—and his magic is the weakest of them all. Humans are hardly worth bothering with…their magic is weak and their talent with the blade is subpar at best. It is most amusing that he qualified for Blade Valley—first human in fifty years I believe—but he would stand no chance against Vandyr.”

“Amusing?” The young elf’s voice was filled with a bitter amusement. “Do you not remember why I didn’t qualify for the tournament? Because the human bested me in the tournament before. I witnessed his talents with my own eyes. He is not to be underestimated. His magic is not as weak as you think and his swordplay is nearly peerless.”

The First Elder, least sympathetic of them all, stood up and slammed his fist against the table. “He was seventh out of eight! If we are having doubts about Bravo the Dwarf being able to best Vandyr when he placed fourth then we should not even consider the human. I believe the results speak for themselves. Von would not be able to defeat—“

“Do I not speak louder than results? Ah, forgive me, Elder. Allow me to correct that mistake. HEAR ME NOW!” The young man’s voice exploded suddenly and his weak fist tightened. “I fought them both and I know—I know that Von has a shot at defeating Vandyr! Or have you already forgotten that you sent me to my death and made me face that monster?”

No Elder, not even the First, dared to look him in the eye here. With a sudden effort, the young man stood up from his chair—with severe difficulty. He was missing his left leg below the knee, as well as his right arm. With a shaky fist, he removed the hood that had been covering his face. “LOOK AT ME!”

The young man had once been Kai, the greatest elven swordsman of the City of Bosque. A handsome young man destined for greatness, his magic only matched by his skill with the blade. Now, his face was twisted and scarred. His hair had fallen out in patches, leaving tufts on top of the scalp—his cheeks were sunken and sallow. Even from across the room where he stood, it was evident that he hadn't slept properly since the night he'd challenged Vandyr in Blade Valley. His eyes flashed dangerously under heavy lids. In a moment, it became clear how much pain he was in; tears began falling down, mixing with blood from cuts along his cheek.

He was not Deathless but his eyes were dead the day he lost that duel. He died a little more each day.

“I dueled against them both,” Kai muttered. “I lost to the human. Lost my chance of competing in Blade Valley. Maybe if I had participated there I would have obtained one of the King’s blessings. Would I have fared better armed with a more powerful Heartbeat?” He laughed bitterly, a sound that seemed to echo through the room. Then he shook his head violently.

"Do you remember what happened, after I lost to the human? I lost my chance at earning myself a great Heartbeat at the tournament. What did you tell me to do after that?” he asked accusingly, looking at each elder in turn. "You ordered me to fight Vandyr anyway! Told me that if someone didn't Chain the Depths once more that our people would be doomed. I b-barely escaped with my life. Someone like me could never have defeated him. Do you realize what you asked me to do? You sent me to my death. My father had always warned me of Vandyr, but my so wise elders convinced me to ignore his words. I was foolish to ignore what he had seen in the past." His voice grew quieter still as if he was talking to himself. “Foolish…so very foolish.”

His voice dropped again. He turned back to look at the elders. They averted their gaze from him in disgust and fear. The shame they felt burned into them as they remembered what they had done. The young man looked away before continuing.

"Vandyr was too strong and too fast. His blade cut through my armor and my very flesh as if it were bread. I could not stop him, not then. Not now. But do you know who could?” His voice was soft, his tone gentle. “Von of Redgrave. I dueled him before and I know this. He has a chance at defeating Vandyr.”

The First Elder coughed to demand attention to his incoming objection. “Kai, my boy—surely you don’t mean to imply that the human is more powerful than some of our current candidates? He placed seventh in the tournament. Surely you don’t mean—”

“He should have been second,” Kai snapped. “Von only fought two battles, unlike the seven everyone else did. He lost once, against Gilver the Champion and had to retire from the tournament. Were he capable of finishing the rest of his matches he would have ranked higher.”

“One loss and one win! How is that enough for you to conclude he should have been ranked higher?”

“Because the one he defeated was Lobo of Inferno, the runner-up in the tournament,”Kai announced, holding onto the table as he tried to stand up straighter on one leg. His left side buckled beneath him, and he only barely managed to catch himself with his single arm. He grunted in pain, but refused to accept any help. He wasn't used to standing up on one leg anymore, but he needed to look the Elders in the eye to make his point strongly.

“That was one of the strongest fighters in the world and he bested him in single combat! That is proof enough!" Kai insisted. "It proves he's strong—stronger than any of us. But if you need any more proof...I have a crystal recording of our match against him. Watch it. Witness his power, and consider it. He is strong enough and he will not need much gold in comparison to the others. We can hire him as our Champion."

The elders were silent now, listening intently. They didn't trust Von—he was a human and they had heard rumors about him and his reputation preceded him. But their desperation was enough for them to look solemnly at the crystal that Kai tossed over at the circular table.

"Watch it," he hissed as he reached out for a nearby chair. He leaned on its arms and lowered himself down into it. As soon as his weight settled onto it, the crystal started to crack, and then suddenly it shattered with a loud pop, like broken ice. The crystal dust circulated around where the crystal used to be, appearing like something of a cross between fog and snow, until that mist borrowed a shape—Kai's. From before his duel against Vandyr, when he was still a handsome, nearly perfect warrior elf. Across from him stood Von of Redgrave, the human wearing dark grey clothing and an arrogant smile.

It was the recording of their duel. Their thoughts and souls laid bare by the crystal.

“At first I thought myself stronger,” Kai muttered in a low voice. “But he soon started showing a sort of—a sort of human swordfighting technique I had never seen before.”

The Second Elder leaned over to watch the crystal. “He is impressive, certainly, but it appears as if you cut him,” he said cautiously. “Should your Heartbeat not have triggered then?”

“It did.” Kai laughed at the memory, a sort of bitter amusement overcoming him. “My Heartbeat—the one I inherited from this very village…the forbidden one meant to slay Vandyr. The one you asked me to use. Do you know what its effect is?”

Every one in the room knew, of course. It was a forbidden Heartbeat that the village had kept sealed for generations until desperation set it free. The Elders gifted it—forced it more like it—to Kai and tasked him with using it to win the Tournament of Blade Valley rather than use his own Elven Heartbeat. It worked, for a short amount of time.

The Valor Heartbeat was terrifying. Every wound from a blade caused the target to be slowly swallowed by their ambitions and darkest of desires, until they lose their sense of reason and self-preservation. It slowly drove its targets to madness until they were easy targets for it. Kai had attuned the Heartbeat so it would only need one wound to trigger, though this diminished its effectiveness.

It was still enough.

Most people who crossed blades with him fell after a single strike, their very self collapsing under their very greed.

“Humans,” Kai muttered, “are cruel and incompetent. Their magic is basic at best, downright insulting in its existence at worst. Their disregard for the sanctity of life and nature is peerless. They do not have our magical affinity, the strength of wolves, the shoulders of giants, the advanced technology of dwarves or the sheer destructive might of demons. Yet they live in our world and since their arrival few have dared to war against them. Know why, Elders? Because their cruelty and focus is peerless in this world.”

A silence fell, but Kai did not allow it to fester for long. “We do not teach the art of Heartbeats recklessly. Elves study for fifty years before they are allowed to draw their first Heartbeat...and our casualties are very low as a result. Humans let their kind attempt it after merely a year of training. Many of them die, of course. But some don’t. While we take two hundred years to get a hundred elves trained in the art safely, humans get the same amount of swordsmen trained in a year.”

“At the cost of lives,”the Second Elder pointed out sharply.

“Aye.” Kai nodded. “They desire the top more than we can understand. Just as we cannot hope they understand our feelings about nature—we too cannot understand their greed. Not just for coin, mind you. Human greed extends far beyond that. Their desire for everything is the only unending thing in this world. They desire to stand at the top of the world enough that they are willing to use corpses as their footholds—be they human or otherwise. How long have they been in our world for? A few hundred years? And yet in that time I promise you they become more dangerous with each passing generation! Von of Redgrave is the most dangerous of those, I assure you.”

Another silence fell, heavier and longer than last time. Kai felt no desire to interrupt it this time. It was only after a long pause that the Third Elder said, “And you think it wise to entrust our hopes to the champion of this race?”

“Wise? Heavens, no.” Kai’s laughter was quiet and had a touch of amusement to it. “Quite frankly it is just about the worst idea I can think of.” He leaned forward and flashed a broken smile at the group. “Are we in agreement about going ahead with it regardless?”

The group nodded—slowly, and one by one. Yet by the end they all agreed on the plan.

“I wonder,” said the Third Elder, “what tale started today.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“It is either the beginning of our final doom, as the Deathless Curse will take us all after one last foolish decision…or the start of the tale of how the mighty malignancy inherent in all humans will destroy even darkness itself.” There was a sort of dark humor in the Elder’s voice. “Show me now. Show me the Dark Heartbeat. Show me the malignant prowess of humanity. Show me the story of Von of Redgrave, the strongest human.”

End of Chapter 1 - "The Elusive Human, So Often Forgotten."