Uroboros Chapter 1

1

We rise and we fall. In our hands we hold the ashes. Love passes into nothingness. And through it all, the world goes on.

2

                A man walks alone. Through the wastelands and the heat. A holstered revolver hangs from his right hip and a sword in a sheath from his left.

 He stops, pushes his hat back and looks up at the sky. It is vast, with not a cloud to break up its blue emptiness. The sun beats down relentlessly. The man moves on.

The road he follows is dull and overgrown with weeds. Nothing can be seen in the western wastelands but a few large dead trees, patches of yellow weeds and a group of distant mountains far to the north. The ground is hard and flat.

 A large crow flies overhead. Its cry stabs through the rumbling silence. A small animal scurries threw the dead grass and disappears into the ground.

He is thirsty. But he cannot drink. Not now. The water skin tied to his belt with strips of rawhide is less than halfway full. He cannot drink and the road is long. His stores of grain and beef jerky are beginning to run low.

He thinks of the man with the blonde hair and the scar on his cheek.

The group he hunts is far ahead. They are well armed. They are better supplied. They have companions. They are dangerous.

A wind blows across the desert. Warm dust rises into the sky. The man walks on.

The man is alone. He follows his prey. Through the wastelands. Through whatever might come.

3

                The man with the gun on his hip stops. He is walking east on the old road. About half a mile up ahead here is another man on the road. His hand drops to the butt of his revolver and approaches slowly. He scans the dead grass around the road for movement. The man in the road might be bait for an ambush. The blonde man was cunning.

There was an ancient looking wagon broken down in the road. The man was sitting in the shade with his back against the wagon. The man is old, bearded and skinny. His clothes are old and a little tattered, but they are clean. To his left sits a large pack. He is unarmed.

How strange it was to see another man in the middle of this emptiness. He had set out on his journey through the western wastelands two weeks ago. And in all that time he had not seen a hint of another human being or intelligent creature. Aside from the grey-black remains of old fires.

He walks up to the old man, who appears to be fast asleep. He doesn’t hear him approach. He scans the desert once more carefully. With the toe of his boot he taps the old man’s arm.

The old man groans and stirs but he does not wake. This time the man with the sword draws his boot back and gives the old fart a hard kick to the thigh.

The old man wakes with a shrill cry and waves his hands around his head as if to swat away flies.

“What in hell do ya think-“the old man cries, then cuts himself off. His eyes go wide. He is looking at the man standing before him. Specifically his big revolver. He clears his throat and gets to his feet with a groan of effort. He speaks again, but this time his voice is small and scared.

“Ima sorry but ya can’t be going around just waking people up like that, son.”

He licks his lips. His eyes on the revolver.

“What are ya anyways? A robber? Walking around with a piece like that?”

The man with the big gun and the sword on his hips took a step back and bowed his head. Now the old man looked at his face.

“Just a traveler.” he said, a small smile on his face. His voice was deep and rough. His smile real.

“And I shall tell you my name if you would tell me yours”

The old man seemed to relax a bit now. He slumped back down in the shade of the old wagon. He grabs his pack and opens it. The old man does not fail to notice that the travelers’ hand has moved to the butt of his gun. The old man slowly pulls out a small pouch. From the pouch he produces two scraps of paper and a small bag of tobacco.

“Sit with me in the shade, traveler. I’ll roll ya a smoke.” The man considered this for a moment then sat next to the old man. It felt good to get out of the sun’s heat. He looked over at the old man. He finished rolling the cigarettes, put them in his mouth, then he produced a small knife and flint from his pack. He grabbed a handful of dry grass and put it on the ground. He struck the flint and the grass caught the spark easily. He used the small flame to light the cigarettes. The old man passed one over and the traveler took it gratefully.

He took a deep drag from his smoke, and exhaled slowly.

“Ma name is Goomy,” the old man said with his smoke in his mouth. “Just Goomy. Everybody calls me Goomy.”

The old man puffed out a smoke ring. The warm dusty wind blew the ring away.

The man of the sword and the gun gave his small smile again. He removed his hat to reveal black hair. He bowed his head again.

                “My name is Davis son of Victor,” he said. His head still bowed. “Thank you for the smoke, sir”

4

                The two men sat in the shade smoking for a few minutes. The wind kicked up and brought up a new wave of dust. Davis snubbed out the remains of his smoke and stood up. The old man did the same. Goomy seemed to be a good enough man, simply going about his business. But Davis hadn’t gotten this far by being careless about the people on the road.

                “Well I figure ya got some questions for me,” Goomy said while beginning to put his things carefully back in his pack.

                “Otherwise ya woulda just walk on by a old sleepin man”

                Davis looked at Goommy carefully. Then he simply nodded, trying to figure out the best way to ask his questions. He put his hands on his hips.

                “First, I want to know what you are doing in the middle of the western wastelands” Davis’s face was serious. His tone was flat and his small smile was gone.

                “This is no place for a man who has seen as many winters as you.”

                “Bah.” Goomy said and waved the question away with is hand. “Look here son. I got me some business in the border town of Majin. I made the crossing through this here frying pan six or seven times in ma day. And I got no doubt I make it this time too.” He thumped his chest with a fist and smiled. Davis nodded. He had passed through the small town of Majin on the trail of the blonde man. Stopping only long enough to resupply.

                “I’m old, yar! But I made of some tough stuff!” As if to prove this point he slung his heavy pack over his back easily.

                “Now, what ya really want to know?”

                Davis looked at this old timer a moment longer. He admired his rough nature, and simple but direct manner.

                “I’m looking for a man.”

                Goomy did not seem surprised to hear this. But still his eyes narrowed slightly and he looked back towards the road he had come from. He looked down at the ground.

                “He is a thin, blonde man, with a deep scar in his left cheek. He and his posse set out three days before me from Majin.”

                Goomy cleared his throat. “And what is ya business with these men?”

                Davis spoke no reply, but simply rested his hand on his revolver. Goomy nodded as if this was all the answer he needed.

                “It seems ya have closed the distance between ya. I seen the man ya ask for. Passed that fellow and his friends on the road not two days ago. He and his buddies had a fowl look to em so I walked off the road and let em pass. There was four of em. And I be damned if all four of em didn’t have guns about their hips. Ma eyes are old but their sharp. I ain’t seen that many guns at once since I was a younger man.”

                Davis nodded and now he looked down the desert road.

                “About six days to get to the town of Lock from here” Goomy said “But I think that the Posse will get their before ya can catch up to em.”

                “I think that you are right” Davis said and removed his hat. He turned back towards Goomy. He seemed eager to go. And also far livelier than a man his age had any right to be. Davis had no doubt that the man would make it Majin.

                “Thank you for your help Goomy.” Davis held out his hand to old man. His small and easy smile was back and it might have been a little wider. “And thank you for the smoke.” Goomy took his hand and shook it.

                “Tis always good to meet decent men on the road. Sometimes they are hard to come by.” Davis nodded and reached into his pack and produced a gold piece. He handed it to Goomy. Goomy smiled and bit down on the gold piece as he turned to leave.

                The men walked in different directions, but on the same road as they both left the shade of the broken cart behind. Before they were out of sight Davis turned around to look at the old man. Off in the distance through the waves of heat Goomy also turned. He thumped his chest twice and headed off.

                Davis walked alone down the desert road once again. Through the wastelands and the warm desert dust. He knows his prey is closer now. His small smile returned and his pace quickened. 

5

The blonde man followed the road east to the town of Lock. The road out of the wastelands. With one hand he adjusted the strap around his shoulder. He traveled with three companions.
Mercenaries. The four men walked across the desert, hard calibers slung about their waists.

The blonde man, whose name was Elven Greene, had paid them well and the promise of more gold to come had kept them loyal, for the time being. The leader of the mercenary trio was a stout man by the name of Lee. He was quiet by nature but quick to anger if provoked. Elven had seen this first hand in a saloon back in Majin. Lee and his mates, Waters and Grayson, had been drinking the night the blonde man had stopped in town. He had noticed the trio right away. They carried firearms and it was rare to see any guns that far outside of the main provinces. Let alone three. Lee sat drinking with his mates to either side of him. The blonde man had taken a small table in a corner.
As the night progressed, a table of men playing cards had become rowdier and rowdier. The drunken slurs and obscenities became louder. It wasn’t long before the fists began to fly. In the commotion a bottle was thrown. It flew across the saloon and struck the leg of Lee’s bar stool. The bottle shattered covering his pant leg with draft. The fight continued at the card table and the men never noticed Lee getting up from his stool.

He produced a handkerchief and cleaned his pant leg. He then walked over to the card table and drew himself up to his full height. Lee could not have been any taller than five foot five inches. One of the brawling men caught sight of Lee and froze. The others turned to look at him.

With one fast and fluid motion, Lee drew his revolver and shot six times. The shots rang like thunderclap in the small saloon. The saloon was now quiet. He returned the gun to its holster. Six men had fallen dead. All six shot in the head. One of them had landed on the card table. Lee grabbed the dead man by the hair and slid his body off the table. He collected the gold and silver pieces strewn across it. Waters and Grayson watched the ordeal with bemused expressions.

 The rest of the saloon’s patrons cleared out pretty quickly. After a few more drinks Elven had approached Lee and his mates with a proposition. The next morning all four men set out from the small dusty town of Majin.

 The man of the gun and the sword was on his trail and gaining every day. That cursed man had not relented in his hunt. In their last encounter they had left their mark on each other. Although the mark the blonde man wore was far easier to see.

As he walked Elven adjusted the strap around his shoulder that held a long thin object to his back. It was about the size of a broom handle and was thickly wrapped in cotton bandages. This item had not left his side since the day his dying father had given it to him. All those long years ago. Even when the man of the sword and the gun had come for it and his life. He had fought that day and escaped scarred but with his life. Elven would die before he let his father’s treasure fall into that man’s hands. He would Kill before he let it happen.

The wind was hot and full of dust. The four men walked on to the town of Lock. Elven had family in this town. If he could reach the home of his cousin Lord Ted Greene, he would finally be safe. It would finally be safe. And after so long, he could finally rest. The blonde man stopped. Lee and his companions also stopped. Elven looked back down the way they had come. The old cracked road stretching behind them. The wastelands huge and empty. He saw no one.

“You hear something?” Lee asked as he too looked around.

“No.” The blonde man responded and began walking again. They followed

“I don’t see anything.” His hand came up and touched the scar on his face.

He will come, the man of the sword and the gun. Elven could feel it. Just as he could feel him somewhere on the road gone by. Fine. Then let him come, Elven thought. I swear by the name of my father, I will be his death.

6

For five days Davis traveled the road at a high speed. The days were hot but he allowed himself to drink only when absolutely necessary. He cut his mind off from the heat and from his thirst. His prey was so close. The blonde man. When he caught him this time there would be no running for them. There would be no mercy. He would kill this man and follow his duty.

Davis thought of the wizard. He of the smoke and the future. With his old, bright blue eyes. The end of his service must be coming soon. It must be if the wizard wants Davis and his line to continue his work. No more work for the old fortune teller.

But this time had not yet come. He was still on the trail of his latest prey. And Davis son of Victor, would do his duty. Just as his father had and his father before him. All the way back to the former king of Erebus.

Davis took the smallest drink from his water skin. He then began to move north, away from the road. He went north until the road was barely visible. Then he began to move parallel to the road. His speed increasing again, he now scanned the wastelands more carefully for signs of his prey. Davis cut himself off from all thoughts now. All that there was in him was yearning for the coming battle. Somewhere deep in his stomach it ached. Soon there would be gunfire and screams. Soon there will be blood. Davis traveled alone through the empty wastelands. The bloodlust rising in him.

7

Elven the blonde man, woke from a kind of daze he was in. Lee or one of his companions had said something. They had been walking through the wastelands for so long now. The huge empty desert had dulled Elven’s mind and senses. He and his companions had slowed down considerably in the last few days. Stopping to rest longer and getting up later in the mornings. They had seen nothing in their long walk through the wastelands but a single old man who would probably die on his way to Majin. His three companions had become short tempered. Lee especially, who had developed a slight limp a few days back. Although he would not admit to any pain. When they had set out that morning, Waters had assured them that they would reach the town of Lock before night fall.  The irony of Waters’s name was not lost on Elven. Their water stores were running dangerously low. As they were, they would not have survived another three days on the road.

“What was that?” Elven asked as he shook his head a little.

“Lock is just up ahead.” Grayson said. Elven could hear a small amount of relief in his voice.

Elven looked ahead. In the distance and through waves a heat he could see small buildings and patches of green that could only be trees. His heart jumped at the sight. His companions straightened up a little and the pace of all four men quickened. There, in the town there will be fresh food and a soft bed. There will be other people. There will be protection and safety. There will be rest.

Within the hour they were almost to the town. The great road through the wastelands did not lead to a gate. In simply became one of the main streets of the town and lead to the river. The river could not be seen from where they were. Too many buildings were blocking their view. The smaller buildings of Lock stood with their backs to the wastelands. The buildings became larger as you moved closer to the center of the town and the river. The trees also became more common the closer to the river you were. Near the river is where the home of Lord Ted Greene would be. That was their first and only stop.

Elven would pay Lee, Waters and Grayson and have them be on their way. Over the journey he had come to dislike all three men. Especially Lee. And now it seemed that hiring these men had been completely unnecessary. 

As they approached, the noises of the town began to fill the air. The distant sounds of horses and the bustling town market. The smell of cooking food. Elven smiled. He was close to the end of his long journey. His blonde hair blew in the warm wind. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder and the four men made for the entrance of the town with some haste.

Maybe I’ll stop at an Inn first and wash up before going to meet Lord Greene, Elven thought. It will not do to show up looking so unkempt. His clothes were dirty and sweat stained and his face was red with sunburn. A quick bath and warm meal might be in order. Lee stopped and turned.

“Before we reach the town, I think that we should deal with our business. You contracted us to protect you across the wastelands and we have. We would like to be on our way.” Lee said.

Grayson and Waters grunted their approval.

“And a hard road it was.” Grayson said. “Maybe a little extra would-“

Grayson’s face exploded outward in a spray of blood and bone as the sound of a gunshot rang through the air.

8

                Lee was the first to react and was also fast on the draw.

Davis had reached the town of Lock just a few hours before the blonde man’s group. He had walked into town and headed to the nearest fountain. After drinking his fill he had eaten what little food he had left in his stores. He would need his energy for what was to come. Then after taking a short rest he headed back towards the road out of Lock. He walked south away from the road and stopped in front of one of the houses that had its back to the desert. Davis found a small patch of shade with a clear view of the road. He sat, relishing the cool ease of the shade after the harsh glare of the wasteland sun.

Davis did not move. His breathing was slow and even. He watched the empty road to the north with one hand on the butt of his revolver the other on the hilt of his sword. He smiled his small smile. This hunt was at its end.

9

Davis fired. One of the blonde man’s men fell to the hard ground. He took aim at the second man who was standing in front of the blonde man. He was looking at his fallen friend with a look of both confusion and shock. Davis shot him twice in the chest. He fell, screaming. Blood began running from his mouth choking his shrieks.

 By this time the third man had drawn and was leveling his gun at Davis. This man was short and had a limp but he was quick on the draw.

Davis jumped to his right and rolled against the hot ground. He was too slow. The short man fired and the round grazed Davis’s right arm. A sharp pain shot from the wound. Warm blood ran down his arm. Davis did not notice. Could not notice, not now. He used the forward momentum of his roll to get to his feet and run for the nearest building.

The blonde man had drawn his piece. He and the short man were both firing. Davis ducked for cover behind one of the houses. His ambush had reduced his enemies by half. He sat and calmly reloaded his revolver. He could hear the sharp snap of the bullets hitting the wall behind him.

Davis counted the rounds fired carefully. He took a deep breath and stood up. Time seemed to slow. His eyes sharpened as the world took on a bright clear shine before his eyes.

Elven and Lee continued to fire. Lee emptied his gun and reloaded quickly. He started towards the house, his revolver raised in front of him. Elven followed closely. Lee fired two more rounds into the house.

Davis jump out from behind the wall. He sailed horizontally roaring at the top of his lungs, with both hands on his gun. Lee was able to fire one shot. It went wild. Davis fired twice. The first hit Lee in the cheek. The second imploded his right eye.

Two quick sprays of warm blood hit the blonde man who was standing directly behind Lee. Lee’s blood covered his face and flew into his eyes. He was shooting wildly, momentarily blinded by the blood.

Davis hit the ground and let off another shot. This round hit the blonde man in the shin as Lee fell to his knees then fell forward. The blonde man screamed in pain and fell back holding his leg. The long item wrapped in bandage fell from his back. Blood spurted from between his fingers.

Davis got to his feet and fired a round. It struck Elven in the hand. He dropped his gun and screamed in pain. He walked over to the two fallen men. He reloaded, his hands moving quickly and confidently. Davis holstered his weapon and let out a long sigh. The bright sharp quality had left his a quickly as it had come.

He looked down at the blonde man. A scar ran down his face. The man he has been chasing for so long. This man may even be his freedom if the wizard so chose.

“It’s over.” Davis said.

Elven did not look up. Davis kicked the blonde man’s revolver away from him.

“Anything you’d like to say?” Davis asked. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and moved it. On his shoulder there was an old stab wound. The scar, a thin white line, looked much like the scar on the blond man’s face.

“Fuck. You.” Elven said looking up at Davis. The blonde man was shaking, but not with fear. Fury burned in his eyes. He spit on Davis’s boots.

Davis drew his sword and took a step back.

“Give it to me.” Davis said. He used his sword to point to the object Elven had had on his back. If the object was cursed in anyway having the blonde man give it over to him would negate its effects.

Elven’s face contorted into an awful smile.

“Why don’t you just take it?” He asked. That hateful smile still on his lips. The hot desert wind kicked up.

In one fluid motion Davis stepped forward and buried the tip of his swords half an inch into the blond man’s chest. He gave a single sharp cry of pain.

“I will not ask again.” Davis said. His tone was flat and final. He drew his sword back.

Davis was then a little surprised see tears falling from the blonde man’s eyes. His face still full of hate.

Elven reached back with his one good hand. His fingers paused just before touching it. A shadow fell over his face. He grabbed the object, his hands shaking. He brought it up but when Davis reached to take it Elven drew it back. He pressed it against his chest like a mother protecting her child.

“I-I can’t! I won’t give it to you. To protect it was my father’s duty! Just as it is now my duty.” Elven sat there in the dust, covered in blood.

Davis understood better than the blonde man would ever know. A father’s duty. Passed on to his son. A burden that one must bear until the day his own son was ready to take it. To lift it from his father’s shoulders and allow him to die in peace. Oh yes, Davis understood.

But the wizard wanted what this man had. That was all there is.

Elven bit down on the object. Davis lowered his sword, a little confused. What the hell is he doing?

He brought his head back and tore off a mouthful of cotton bandage. Then another. Then another. What was beneath the bandages was now visible. It appeared to be a sword. Some kind of short sword. The steel of the blade was clean and bright but broken. It came to a jagged point. The hilt was beautifully ornate, with gold and silver inlay. It had no cross guard and a pointed pommel. The steel shone bright.

Elven Greene, the blonde man, grabbed it by the handle. Davis looked away as the blade gave off a bright flash of white light. The light consumed the blonde man. Davis took a step back. Elven got to his feet. But that was impossible. Davis had shot him in the leg not three minutes ago. The light dissipated. Elven stood holding the broken sword and was covered in blood. The cotton bandages seemed to be burning at his feet. Gunshot wounds in his leg and hand were no longer bleeding.

“Now.” The blonde man said. His voice was no longer trembling and it had taken on a strange new quality, as if the sound was not coming just from his mouth but from everywhere at once.

“I will remove your fucking head.”