Silhouette II

Two weeks ago.

Eli could barely see through the dust and the blow fell squarely on the meat of his jaw. His head whipped around, sending excruciating tendrils of pain through his neck and tearing his eyes away from the square where the other two fought their way past the town limits. Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision. One of the men above him reached down to pick up the .45 they had dashed from his hand. Fighting back the cobwebs in his head, he swung his leg around, catching the man behind the ear and dropping him to the ground without a sound. The man's partner moved to secure his arms behind him, locking back the hammer on his own weapon. Eli waited until the man stood directly above him and threw himself upward, planting his shoulder in the tender meat between the man's legs. The man flipped over backwards with a strangled cry that flew up an octave when he hit the ground. Eyes bulging, hands gingerly assessing the damage below his belt, he scrambled towards his fallen weapon. Eli walked towards him slowly, carefully avoiding his legs. The man reached his weapon and spun around to catch the full force of the blow on the bridge of his nose. The noise of the broken bone was drowned in a gargled scream as the bone broke free of the skin and buried itself in his eye. The man's jawbone popped free of its socket with the force of the silent howl that rose from his broken vocal chords. Without a sound the man crumpled heavily to the ground and didn't move again.
Eli straightened himself fully and turned to see a third standing where he had crouched to watch his friends in the square. The reek of sweat rode on the breeze that rippled the man's shirt, filling the other's nostrils and choking the air from his heaving lungs. Dust from weeks of journeying without pause lay on the man's face like a mask. The man's smoldering green eyes never released his. The mouth was forever tipped upward in a pensive half-smirk by the burn that ran from mid-lip to earlobe. He watched Eli casually; the butts of his weapons hovering near his hips. Eli looked expectantly back at him. The man smiled, collapsing the grotesque mark in on itself and gestured toward Eli's fallen weapon.
"You see, I have honor as well. I will not fire on you while you are unarmed."
Eli tilted the tips of his mouth up in a mockery of the man's shadow-smile, but remained motionless.
The man again motioned toward the weapon. "Please."
Eli continued to watch him patiently. The man's smile slipped. His eyes regarded the other coldly. Suddenly, he let out a short bark of a laugh and nodded.
"You continue to surprise me with your never-ending lack of understanding. You have lost, and yet you continue to hope for freedom and the triumph of you and your friends. Well you needn't bother with any such delusions. The power of the man you killed reaches remarkably far. Even were I to let you and your friends pass, others would follow." He smiled again, flecks of mirth floating in his eyes. He shook his head almost solemnly in feigned regret. "I will not let you pass. And you cannot run forever. But you need not go the way of our Elder, Eli. As I've said, I do have some honor. You may safely retrieve your weapon so that you may face me as the elders of old had once faced each other. You have my word."
Eli glanced at the sky and blinked back an old memory. "Your word means nothing to me. Nor do your threats. I know you, Elsion. Do not act the noble warrior with me. Spend the bullet you came to spend and be done."
"What do you hope to gain from this charade?" The man spat. "The people of nearly one hundred towns across the Plains loved this man. The bullet you put in his head will kill you and the others as surely as it killed him, you know this."
Still studying the passing clouds, Eli nodded. "Love of a man does not make his soul clean. He was foul and wretched. I did what needed to be done."
"Who are you to pass such judgement?" Spittle soared from the man's mouth as the echoes of his shouts floated into the town and were drowned in the gunfire that rolled through the streets.
"Our Elder never believed he had such power; what has entered your head that you should believe you have been given this?"
Eli looked back down at him. "A man's soul can leak out through his speeches and letters and spread to those around him, infecting them with beliefs and ideas that should never come to be. The soul of that man was filthy. His thoughts were dangerous. His push for a foothold in the Chairs of the Wise has upset the balance of our very government. I did what needed to be done for the sake of the Race."
The man laughed again, sending chills down Eli's back. "I know you as well, Eli and neither need you play the noble warrior with me. That man had the backing of all but one Chair. This Chair, like you, lives in the past. He wishes to hold on to the old ways as you do, and he does not know when it is time for him to move with the age. The man's thoughts were dangerous to you. You did what you needed to do to ensure your way of life."
A single gunshot drifted up on the wind from the town below, mingled with a shrill cry of fury. Beyond the man's shoulder, he could make out the outline of Alya lying in the street. Gill stood over her, shoulders bent in rage and hate. Eli bit down hard to quell the fear and bile that rose in his throat. Gill's pained roar followed by a furious volley of shots broke him and he fell to the ground vomiting. Below them Gill spun around as if he'd been hit by a train and rushed to meet the ground. He saw their dead faces as if he stood beside them. They were gone, and he had failed. He forced all his will and strength to settle just behind his eyes. He would not weep in front of this traitor. He dug his hands into the ground and looked up at the man with eyes that shone over bright with pain. The other stood watching him impassively.
"There is nothing left of your way of life, Eli. You are a dying Breed. You and your kind are past your usefulness. I'm sorry, my friend, but you've watched your chance for the honor you regard so highly come and pass. Now it is time for the obsolete to become memory and for your time to end."
Eli threw himself sideways and dove for his weapon as the bullets crashed into the ground beside him. The boot of the man shot forward and found the gun first, sending it cartwheeling over the edge of the plateau and out of sight. He smiled at Eli, his face mockingly showing a regret his eyes did not attest. He thumbed back the hammers of his weapons and raised them to fall level with Eli's head. Eli immediately dropped to the ground, the wind-trail of the passing rounds hot on his neck. He flipped over onto his back and kicked out hard at the man's knees. The man leaped into the air and came down on top of one of those he'd come with. His foot found the spilled blood and he fell and sprawled across the body, his face plunging into the the pool of red near the dead man's head. His face pouring with the blood of his comrade, the man furiously scrambled to his feet and raised his weapons to Eli's face.
Eli dug the toe of his boot into the ground and flung the bloody dirt up into the other's eyes. The man dropped the weapon he held in his right hand and clawed at his face, trying desperately to throw off his blindness. Weeping furiously without thought of his pride and roaring incoherently, Eli gripped the man's arms tightly and drove him backwards towards the plateau's edge. The man frantically pulled the trigger of his remaining weapon; the thunder of the shots rocked Eli's head back on his shoulders. The man screamed in frustration as the final round missed Eli's ear by half an inch. He kicked out viciously, catching Eli's shin just above the ankle. Biting back a cry, Eli wrapped his foot around the other's ankle and yanked hard.
For an endless moment, the man hung suspended over the enormous drop. His eyes locked onto Eli's. No volumes could contain the hatred that passed across the desert air between them. Then he turned to face the setting sun and was gone.
Eli crumpled to the ground and watched through pouring eyes as the man's head exploded against the rocky floor of the valley. Beyond him, the townsmen who had killed his friends were gathering their remaining forces to venture out to find the last of the Great Man's murderers. Slowly, painfully, Eli straightened himself to face his dead friends. He stood watching their still-smoking bodies with both hands over his heart. He stretched out his hands to offer it to them, his fingers catching the last rays of the day. "Elki arfur mealan, my friends. Keep it well until we meet again."
With the man's fallen weapon secured against his hip, he turned his face to the east and fled.