Author's Note: This marks the beginning of Arc One: The Gunslinger. As this is a retelling of The Dark Tower series by Stephen King (with some heavy changes to the plot of course), I highly recommend reading the actual book(s) before or after each chapter.
Arc One covers the events in the first book, titled "The Gunslinger". Certain things have been changed or omitted from the plot. Fans of the series will recognize what exactly has been altered right away. For you people new to the series, I hope that you will take my advice and read Stephen King's series in addition to reading my retelling. Thank you again for reading.
The Gunslinger – The Desert
The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.
Although, that wasn't really correct, now was it? But that shall wait for later…
The sun beat down on the gunslinger with a fury that only million-year old stars know of. He had been walking for a very long time, and his water supply has grown low. I need to get to a town, he thought. How long has it even been since I've seen a real person?
He remembered buying the mule beside him, but the where and when was uncertain. Time had begun to get a little odd lately, much like a watch whose batteries are preparing to expire. An hour might be sixty minutes. It might also be seventy-five or forty.
The gunslinger stopped to get a drink from his waterskins. The first of the two was empty, and he polished off the last gulp of the second one. How comical, he thought. I have come thousands of miles just to die of thirst in a god-forsaken desert. Ka can be quite the joker.
He pushed on without further thoughts, for thoughts were for men who had water and time to spend. All Roland had now was his waterskins, his purse (which you may think of as a satchel), a shiny golden horn, and his guns.
Oh yes, there was the guns. Two big revolvers with sandlewood grips on them, oiled and primed for dealing death. The grips each had a small steel plate attached to them to optimize balance for the gunslinger, as he and his father were not of equivelant shape and size. A gunslinger's machines need to be balanced, as the gunslinger himself was the ultimate equilibrium between life and death.
The gunslinger felt dizzy for a moment, keeling over and almost falling on his face. I musn't fall out here, he decided. For if I should fall, I may not have the strength to get back up.
The gunslinger righted himself and felt his belongings. The guns, the purse, and the horn were all there. He felt a little tingle as he touched the horn, in his fingers and even in his mind. He felt as though the horn had perhaps not been there before, but he knew that it had. He had picked up the horn after his friend Cuthbert had finally fallen during the battle on Jericho Hill.
But that was a story for another day.
He pushed on through the desert for two more hours until he came across the remains of a small campfire. The man in black was here, he thought. Upon further inspection, he noticed that this campfire was slightly larger than that of the previous ones he had found. I'm either getting closer or… his train of thought slammed to a stop in his mind.
This fire wasn't the only weird thing. On the ground next to the campfire, the sand and rocks had been shifted and moved in a way to make room for not one sleeping body, but two. In all my time chasing Walter, he thought, for that was the man in black's name, he has never had a close accomplice on the run with him. If he has an accomplice, why not stop and face me? Surely he would feel confident in his ability to kill me with the aid of another wizard like himself…
This finding prompted several more uncomfortable questions within the gunslinger's mind. He decided that all would be answered when it was necessary, and that he should make camp. The sun had already begun it's decent below the horizon, and only a half hour of light remained.
The gunslinger set up his tent and laid out his gunna, a collection of all his gear. He merely sat next to the fire for a while, thinking of old friends from a long time ago.
"But the world has moved on since then," he said aloud.
Indeed it had. The world really had moved on, but not for the last time. Unbeknownst to Roland, it was about to happen again.