The Gunslinger: Roland and the Can-Toi

"Gunslinger."

A small decrepit voice, like sun-cracked leather, rasped out. Roland turned at the call, gun ready.

"The earth you walk on no longer belongs to you. Your world has passed on.”

Roland regarded the fallen Wolf of Calla. Shot and destroyed, its body was spreadeagled, pinned by the weight of its metal steed. The head was attached only by a thin sliver of dull metal, while the tiny satellite-dish thing that had been connected to its head-top now lay inches away from it. Nothing moved, but even still Roland heard all that was being said, as the dead glassy eyes regarded Roland with its endless stare.

“Who are you,” he asked.

“It matters not. An agent. Not of the Crimson one, he is but a pawn. We are [------------]."

The last word was somehow lost to Roland, intelligible and uncomphrehensible.

"But it matters not. Things of importance are now in play, and you are but one tiny cog in this entire scheme.”

The head now turned effortlessly to face Roland directly.

“We am here to tell you this. Simply because you must know. More than that we cannot tell. Your destiny lies with the Tower. All worlds must converge there, and that is where you must go. You are but one small cog, but an important one. Many [-------] will rest upon your journey.”

“What do you mean, demon?”

“No demon, nor god, gunslinger. We simply are. Your destiny lies with the Dark Tower. You belong to no world now, for no world is part of the Tower, while the Tower is everything. You are ka mai, and you can never be otherwise. ”

And the destroyed head simply was again, devoid of volition.

Roland left the clearing in a run.