Mid-World
The Taheen lay
crumpled in a heap, stacked like cordwood. Strands of smoke
intertwined as they trailed
from glowing hot
barrels. His aim was true. He had not forgotten the face of his
father. The mantra so
well-ingrained in
him from his training, pulses in his mind. Aim with the eye, shoot
with the mind, kill
with the heart.
The Gentleman looked
from one hand to the other admiring the beauty of the sandalwood
grips and the
perfect balance of
his blue-gray bringers of peace, and death. The sandalwood guns are
the mark of a
true Gunslinger.
They were made using the melted down blue-grey steel of the sword
Excalibur and
were passed down
from Arthur Eld himself.
His eyes linger on
the guns a moment longer before sheathing them in a motion to fast
for the eye to
follow. The
sandalwood guns seemed to let out a barely audible whine at being
sheathed as if they
were disappointed
they were no longer free and dealing out justice forty-five caliber
at a time.
The Gentleman walks
over to a man sitting on the ground. The dirt underneath the man’s
arm is heavily
stained with blood.
Recognition is instant. This man is a brother; a fellow gunslinger.
Reaching down, he
clasps the tall
gunslinger’s hand and helps him to his feet. Their arms still
grasped, the two men give one
another a knowing
nod.
The tall gunslinger
with the piercing blue eyes breaks the silence with his deep,
gravelly voice. “Thankee-sai.”
“Roland”.
“Erik.”
The Gentleman points
his finger at the blood flowing down Roland’s arm. “Is it bad?”
Roland looks at the
hole in his arm with indifference. “I’ll mend. Ka is not done
with me yet.” He turns away and walks towards his horse.
“So, back to it
then…the Tower?” The Gentleman asks, already knowing the answer.
Roland wheels his
horse around but does not answer. He need not. The depth of sadness
and steely
resolve in Roland’s
dangerous blue eyes gives the Gentleman all the answer he needs.
“Long days and
pleasant nights, Erik.”
“And may you have
twice the number, Roland.”
And with that Roland
raced towards End-World and the Tower.
Moments later, a
loud unpleasant hum fills the air and the Gentleman disappears in a
green-gray flash.
Many seasons have
passed since Erik abruptly vanished and there has been much
speculation as to what
happened to Erik of
Gilead, but no one knows for sure. His legend continues to grow,
however,
bolstered by
Roland’s retelling of Erik’s bravery and skill.
A man from Calla
Bryn Sturgis claims to have heard Roland himself say that “he would
not want to be on
the wrong end of the
Gentleman’s barrels.” Though, no one else can back this claim up.
It is worth
noting that the man
in question claiming to have heard Roland say this, has more whiskey
in his veins
than blood on any
given day.
Earth
He does not know how
he got to this world, or why. His gut tells him this is the Crimson
King’s
doing. He looks
around to see a fierce battle being waged between unknown beings. He
hears one of the beings, a defender of this realm by the look of it,
say a name. Legion.
The ground shakes
under his feet and it brings the Gentleman out of his reverie. A hulk
of a man in red
comes charging
towards him. The huge man lets out a long primal yell as he rips up
chunks of ground in his wake.
Sound disappears and
everything goes silent, except for a melodious song. The six-shooters
call out to him and he relinquishes control. His hands move in a blur
as sound rushes back. He hears the sweet music his guns produce, and
he…he is at the center of it. He is the orchestrator of this
symphony of death. And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air.
A woman garbed in
gold and white stands next to Roland with her mouth agape. The look
on her face is one of astonishment and fear.
It takes her a
moment to find her words. "Did...did...did you
just...just...kill him?" She stammers.
The Gentleman
studies her face for signs of humor but he sees none, only fear. "My
lady, what would you have had me do, make tea and have a palaver with
him? Maybe sing a few songs around the campfire, perhaps?"
She gives him an
incredulous look but says nothing. Her eyes are moist and a tear
escapes down her cheek.
His expression
softens only slightly, and when he speaks it is with the tone of an
adult speaking to a child. "Listen, the time for spared feelings
and civility is over. If I had let him live he would have continued
to terrorize and kill people of your world. Is that what you want?"
A look of
resignation comes over her face as she looks away from Erik's gaze.
He gently takes her
hand. "I know this is hard but this is the way it must be."
A blast near a group
of civilians deafens the air. The woman pulls her hand away but Erik
grabs it again before she can fly off. "Do what must be done".
His tone left no room for interpretation. Disgust flashed across her
face as she broke free from his grip and sped towards the group of
civilians.
This is worse than
he thought. If the other defenders are as soft as the woman in gold,
they will be slaughtered. But he will not let that happen. He will
protect this realm just as he had protected Mid-World. No matter the
cost, he will find a way back to his family, and then he will make
the Crimson King pay for every act of evil he has ever inflicted. But
first, he will make the Legion regret ever setting foot on this
world. He draws his sandalwood guns....and he smiles.
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