I'm back! It's been a while, but I feel as if this story is good enough to
live through the wait. Y'all certainly think so, especially Hell on Stilts.
I noticed how fervent you are getting, so I'm going to release this short
chap just to whet the appetites a bit. Anyway, Jezarro, I wholeheartedly
agree, although that particular interaction might be a touch difficult.
You'll see why in this chapter, or maybe in the next. Big D1, you're on the
wavelength, so you'll undoubtedly enjoy this chapter. Thanks for the heads-
up about the gun name. I won't forget again. ^_^ Also, I've changed a few
things about the setting of the story, so I'd guess that any or all
expectations of where this story would have gone will be summarily
shattered. Namely, this will be set right after the Litte Sisters of
Eluria. Believe me, though, it's for the best, as Wolves changes things
considerably (buy it right now. :)) To get on with the necessaries, I'll go
ahead and disclaim the story of Roland, as well as the story of Spike.
Because they're not mine. Ok, here goes. Hope you like it.
Aleki Blues
It was already faded and dreamlike from his mind. Some things might have lasted, but others disappeared immediately; this was somewhere in between. Only two short weeks had passed since he had left the (somewhat) abandoned town of Eluria behind, but the gunslinger had already forgotten the finer details. Soon, the larger, more prominent ones would go, and shortly following, the entire experience itself would be as phantom-like as the bedside songs Gabrielle, his mother, used to sing to him all those nights ago.
And he wouldn't have it any other way.
Revering Sister Jenna with any sort of memory would be little more than a painful burden. Besides, he still had the necklace, and maybe that was all he really needed. Everything else considered, his time spent in Eluria was probably best forgotten.
For that matter, most of his time spent anywhere lately would be best forgotten.
Take the present. Although he was quite far from the Mohaine Desert, he could still feel the dry, soul-sucking heat that characterized it, yet the aridity wasn't sufficient enough to choke out the evasive yet full-bodied stench of the ever-increasing clumps of devil-grass. It seemed that they grew more numerous as the water supply grew more desperate.
He had recently lost yet another noble steed on his path to the Tower, and his most amply filled waterskin was getting lighter and lighter with every step the gunslinger took.
More desperate than that, however, was the fact that he was nearly out of ammo.
As always, he thought nothing of this; Ka would always make a way for him, no matter how dire the situation made itself out to be. This moment was no exception, as the gunslinger was almost certain that he was approaching a town. An occasional faintly outlined coach track half wind-covered in a patch of softer sand, a piece of waste from a band of riders, or a dark glimmer on the horizon would taunt him into thinking so before, but this time he knew it to be true.
As he was studying the wavering, undulating smear of a town on the otherwise untouched dunes, another spot materialized no more than a mile in front of it as he crested the low rise in front of him. The spot might be an abandoned coach, an abandoned mine shaft, or even an abandoned dwelling. The gunslinger chuckled to himself, hearing the ever-present voice of Cort in the back of his mind, saying "Whatever it might be, maggot, the bottom line is that it's going to be abandoned." Roland was inclined to agree, not just because the voice of his beloved teacher had said so, but because the look of the surrounding area suggested, practically screamed that nothing of value was to be gained by sticking around. No viable ground; it was rocky and loose, no easily accessed water supply, and smack in the middle of a rough-travelled country. Even so, the gunslinger decided to give this little remnant of a very moved-on world a once-over before he entered the town. This was an easy decision, seeing as how the abandoned spot was about three miles away, and was positioned in a straight line between the gunslinger and the town.
It was near impossible to avoid, given the situation.
He took a short, half-hearted pull from his nearly empty waterskin, surveying the position of the sun as he did so. He estimated that it was four in the afternoon. Just enough time to reach the town before the light failed, give or take however much time investigating the abandoned spot would demand. If anything, he might just spend the night there, wanting to waste no time meeting the town's populace before retiring. Eluria had at least given him that much caution.
A tiny, almost apologetic feeling of excitement--maybe it was anticipation, maybe the dread of finding yet another pile of wood and woe, maybe it was Ka, who knows?--filled the gunslinger's head, resolving his will to at least try to get there before dark. The chance for something new, nay, just different from this, was enough justification for resolve nowadays. The world had indeed moved on. So had Roland.
Ignoring any upswellings of memory or forethought, the gunslinger reshouldered the waterskin, and resumed his march towards the town, the abandoned spot firmly fixed in his always-true sights.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alrighty. If it was good, tell me. If it was crap, tell me harder. ^_^
Aleki Blues
It was already faded and dreamlike from his mind. Some things might have lasted, but others disappeared immediately; this was somewhere in between. Only two short weeks had passed since he had left the (somewhat) abandoned town of Eluria behind, but the gunslinger had already forgotten the finer details. Soon, the larger, more prominent ones would go, and shortly following, the entire experience itself would be as phantom-like as the bedside songs Gabrielle, his mother, used to sing to him all those nights ago.
And he wouldn't have it any other way.
Revering Sister Jenna with any sort of memory would be little more than a painful burden. Besides, he still had the necklace, and maybe that was all he really needed. Everything else considered, his time spent in Eluria was probably best forgotten.
For that matter, most of his time spent anywhere lately would be best forgotten.
Take the present. Although he was quite far from the Mohaine Desert, he could still feel the dry, soul-sucking heat that characterized it, yet the aridity wasn't sufficient enough to choke out the evasive yet full-bodied stench of the ever-increasing clumps of devil-grass. It seemed that they grew more numerous as the water supply grew more desperate.
He had recently lost yet another noble steed on his path to the Tower, and his most amply filled waterskin was getting lighter and lighter with every step the gunslinger took.
More desperate than that, however, was the fact that he was nearly out of ammo.
As always, he thought nothing of this; Ka would always make a way for him, no matter how dire the situation made itself out to be. This moment was no exception, as the gunslinger was almost certain that he was approaching a town. An occasional faintly outlined coach track half wind-covered in a patch of softer sand, a piece of waste from a band of riders, or a dark glimmer on the horizon would taunt him into thinking so before, but this time he knew it to be true.
As he was studying the wavering, undulating smear of a town on the otherwise untouched dunes, another spot materialized no more than a mile in front of it as he crested the low rise in front of him. The spot might be an abandoned coach, an abandoned mine shaft, or even an abandoned dwelling. The gunslinger chuckled to himself, hearing the ever-present voice of Cort in the back of his mind, saying "Whatever it might be, maggot, the bottom line is that it's going to be abandoned." Roland was inclined to agree, not just because the voice of his beloved teacher had said so, but because the look of the surrounding area suggested, practically screamed that nothing of value was to be gained by sticking around. No viable ground; it was rocky and loose, no easily accessed water supply, and smack in the middle of a rough-travelled country. Even so, the gunslinger decided to give this little remnant of a very moved-on world a once-over before he entered the town. This was an easy decision, seeing as how the abandoned spot was about three miles away, and was positioned in a straight line between the gunslinger and the town.
It was near impossible to avoid, given the situation.
He took a short, half-hearted pull from his nearly empty waterskin, surveying the position of the sun as he did so. He estimated that it was four in the afternoon. Just enough time to reach the town before the light failed, give or take however much time investigating the abandoned spot would demand. If anything, he might just spend the night there, wanting to waste no time meeting the town's populace before retiring. Eluria had at least given him that much caution.
A tiny, almost apologetic feeling of excitement--maybe it was anticipation, maybe the dread of finding yet another pile of wood and woe, maybe it was Ka, who knows?--filled the gunslinger's head, resolving his will to at least try to get there before dark. The chance for something new, nay, just different from this, was enough justification for resolve nowadays. The world had indeed moved on. So had Roland.
Ignoring any upswellings of memory or forethought, the gunslinger reshouldered the waterskin, and resumed his march towards the town, the abandoned spot firmly fixed in his always-true sights.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alrighty. If it was good, tell me. If it was crap, tell me harder. ^_^