First official chapter of the story! =) I'm so sorry this took me forever and a day, I had a very devastating case of Writer's Block, and I think I'm finally beginning to get over it.

So... This is it, Gorlan's Ranger. It's in first person, almost as if it's being told by the Ranger as it happened, and it sort of stops off so he can give you a few thoughts and what not. This chapter isn't very informative of the Ranger himself. (Yup, it's a dude.) Next chapter you really get to meet him. I promise. =)

Please read and review! =) It's greatly appreciated!

This kind of cuts in at the end of Book 1, and it'll pick up from there.

Night of the Kalkara

Gorlan is dark, just a field of coarse grass littered with the shapeless mounds of shadows that was once a castle matched by no other. The moon, which usually sits high in the deep patch of blue sky streaked with tiny pin points of light, is absent. It's a new sight, a breath taking one. Then I tear my gaze away from the sky and look at the tenebrous ruins again.

Definitely still breath taking, but with a different touch this time, more like breath stealing. It makes the animosity of the moment almost fitting.

Here I am, standing in the heart of fallen Castle Gorlan. I breathe in the wind and taste the cold, feeling it tremble in my chest. It feels good, until Bracken, my ever faithful mount, snorts in derision. This was his home too, and I pat his neck in comfort. It hurts, I know. But then he stamps his hooves and tosses his head at me. Something is wrong.

And then I hear it.

A deep and resonating cry splits the silence of the night and urges Bracken to edge a little closer to me with a fearful little whiff. That's not what surprises me though, the gelding has always been a bit of a coward. We both have.

It's the sound of hoof beats that follows that gets my mind working, but the deep throated hum of the long bow I wear across my back coming from somewhere among the rubble is what gets me moving.

For the first time in my life I swing astride Bracken with that familiar churning in my stomach, but this time I don't turn away from the source of distress. This time I urge Bracken around and face the sound of the distress.

This time I ride towards it.

What a mistake.

The deep rutted tracks of the beasts were easy to find, and from the torn and ripped fabric of the earth it was clear that whatever had passed through the ruins wasn't human. But I think I'd already gathered that from the cry of the beasts earlier.

I may never have found them in the dark if it wasn't for the fire. It was easy to spot, the orange flickering light of it. And even if I hadn't spotted the flames the horrible guttural wailing of something arcane would have drawn me there anyways. I dismounted and left Bracken behind a thick wall of masonry, he'd be alright there for the time being.

Wreathed in my cloak with an arrow knocked to my bow in shaky hands I crept forward. Silent movement had always come easy to me, and it happened to be the one skill of a Ranger that I felt I knew inside and out. It's not that I'm horrible with the bow, or that I can't handle a saxe knife and dagger, or follow a track. It's that I've never been brave enough to put any of that to good use. Unseen movement was something else among those things, it's what helped me get out of being what I should have been all along.

If only I'd been the Ranger everyone else thought I was. If only… I could do this all day, naming all the if's and pondering over all the things that could have turned out the right way. But I won't, because somewhere out there among all the crumbled rock is someone in need. Someone who needs help. Someone who needs a Ranger.

Too bad they've got me instead.

I think it's safe to assume that everyone has had a moment in their life where they feel a very real and sudden burst of fear. A cold stab of trepidation, shock and horror, all in one convenient little spike that's driven straight through your heart. It ripples outward to the rest of you, jolting you into the nightmarish hell most commonly called reality.

Fear's like a monster, and for as long as I've lived it's waited for me around every darkened corner or down every rutted path I've ever walked, and here it was again.

This time it stood in front of me as a grotesque beast of bearish origins. Covered from head to toe in coarse hair matted over with some sort of thick oily substance that looked revolting even from where I stood, almost thirty feet away.

A second beast, a twin of the first, moves out from behind a wall of still standing masonry, and my heart tries to sing a song with it's erratic beating. Both of them are there, standing outlined in the firelight with their gleaming red eyes trained on a little figure that's just a smudge in the dark to my eyes.

This isn't the first time I've ever encountered the Kalkara, with their long clawed paws and those malicious and controlling eyes. But it's just like last time. It's like someone just slammed a knife into my throat. And I can't move anymore. I can't breathe anymore. I can only stand there and watch.

Oh God, oh God please, let this all just be a horridly horrific nightmare that I'll jolt out of any second now!

But it's not.

I'm still there when I open my eyes. Transfixed to the spot by some unseen force, and the Kalkara's aren't even looking at me.

Again the familiar melody of a long bow at work is what gets me moving. I can't explain why that sound does that to me. It's the equivalent of someone holding me under water and waiting until I choke, until the life slowly starts to leave me. Then they're dragging me out of the water and breathing life back into me again. It's a wake up call like no other.

Sometimes I just wish they'd let me drown, but my murderous savior would never be so kind.

Again the long bow sings, a repetitive rhythm ringing in my head now. A quick glance over at the Kalkara reveals the source. That dark smudge of a man was holding his own against the Kalkara as they lumbered towards him, giving the fire a wide berth.

Grudgingly, I start down the slope, flanking the Kalkara from a safe distance. I raise my long bow and level it with the beast with the swiftness only a Ranger could achieve.

With sweaty palms I aim for the Kalkara closest to me. It still has it's back to me, and if the thing had a nose it wouldn't catch the scent of dinner on the wind since it was blowing towards me. A light, chilly breeze to add to my already unsteady hands.

My first shot flies wide, missing both of the hulking Kalkara and landing in the monstrous blaze to the right of them.

"Dammit," I mumble under my breath, pulling another arrow from my quiver and attempting another shot. I'm proud to say that this went a little better, and the arrow caught the rear Kalkara in the shoulder.

With a triumphant little smile I nock another arrow to the string and let it fly. The beast let's out a rancid wail of anger and pain just before it turns on me.

"Oh no…"

The nearest Kalkara decides it can take me on it's lonesome, and it charges me suddenly. Lucky for me it's brethren stays behind, intent on the other man of prey at the moment. I think up a meek prayer for him and scramble back up the bedrock towards a wall of masonry, thinking I can hide there.

I had a fervent hope that maybe the Kalkara would be a slow sluggish beast, but it wasn't. It's gaining on me now, I can hear it, rushing closer now. I can almost feel it's breath hot against my neck. Each step seems to be ticking off how much time I have left before the Kalkara brutally murders me.

I can feel my heart now, a solid lump in the back of my throat. A constant reminder of the fear that's eating away at me inside. I sling my long bow over one shoulder, hoping the string keeps it on my back as I climb. I must look like a hysterical spider of some sort, the way I lunge up that masonry wall and clamber to the top of the rough stone.

At the top I turn and look down, and I feel my stomach drop right into the soles of my boots. I clamp my eyes shut at the last moment, clenching them shut to the point of pain. For the hundredth time I wish I could be somewhere else, anywhere else in this God forsaken world would be fine with me. Really, an icy tundra or a broiling desert barren of all life would be spectacular compared to this.

Laying across the narrow top of the wall isn't comfortable, but forcing my limbs to move is too much effort. Fear has me frozen to the spot, and to the spot I swear I will stay until the beast lumbers off.

I don't have to wait long.

A loud, earsplitting wail of agony rings out from somewhere quite far away. The dreadful sound is enough to make me clench my rattling teeth together and attempt to clamp my hands over my ears. I almost lose my place on the wall as a result, but it's worth it.

The Kalkara below me lets out an answering cry, and like music to my ears it's receding steps follow close behind.

Carefully, I sneak a peek at the beast, watching it's broad back move away from me. My throbbing heart starts to settle again, and my breath comes a little easier. I'm still trembling, and it's a struggle to get down from the wall without falling and breaking something. But I do get down eventually, and stagger away with what's left of my dignity just before I'm violently sick.

Leaning against the rough masonry to stay upright is all I can do to keep from keeling over. I have to force myself to breathe regularly, and I can't help but wonder why it's such a struggle for me. Why in the world am I such a blasted coward?

I don't spend much time dwindling on the question, saving the thoughts on it for when I can't sleep at night. That's usually when I do my most rational thinking, unlike now, when I'm so dizzy that I can't quite distinguish the ground I'm standing on from the wall I'm leaning against.

All I can do is wait for that sickening wave of nausea to pass. Eventually it does, just as the sound of hoof beats' echoes from a ways off. Turning a keen ear towards the sound, I listen.

The hoof beats are there, distant, but definitely real. They aren't just a figment of my imagination. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, though.

Unfortunately, as much as I'd like to curl up in a feeble position and lay there, I have to find out what else is hiding among this tumble of masonry on this dreadful night.

I have to save them, I tell myself. I have to save them all, if it's the last thing I do.

All I can think is that this is what Channer would have done. That this is what he would want me to do. That this is just what I have to do for the both of us.

For Channer's memory.

For my redemption.

So that's it. Is this what you expected? What you didn't expect? Let me know. Review please. =) I had my doubts with this story, almost like I was taking it in the wrong direction. I have to be honest when I say that Gorlan's Ranger is not the heroic character that every Ranger seems to be, and I do intend to make him a tad bit different than most heroes.

I do think it'll get better, for everyone, including Gorlan's forgotten Ranger. This is, after all, his legacy.