The Orc Ranger: (An Orc Ranger Series Novella)

By Jacob McElligott

An ancient darkness lurks in Gayne County, and it will not be taken lightly.

Thurk Gutarg lives a hard life. Being both an orc and one of the famed Albara Rangers, his entire life has been spent under the judgemental eyes of other people. When reports come in from isolated Gayne County of people going missing on the plains, Thurk can not be sure of the cause. He strikes out anyway, firm in his duty as a Ranger.

Finding unlikely allies in the form of an old dwarf named Galmar and a native boy called A'Tiami, Thurk sets out to find the dark evil plaguing this small western town.

Can this unlikely trio discover Gayne County's dark secret in time to save the town and themselves?

A rich fantasy world combines with a vibrant western story in a world full of lost magic and fearsome beasts in this debut novella to the Orc Ranger series.

Lovers of the Weird West Fantasy Genre (The Dark Tower, Wolf in Shadow), as well as fans of traditional fantasy and contemporary fantasy, will thoroughly enjoy this tale. Read The Orc Ranger today to accompany Thurk and his companions on an unforgettable journey through the West.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lame Horse Publishing House LLC
• Release date: Nov 25, 2019
• ISBN: 1393329373

Book preview

An Unlikely Pairing

The Dragon’s Hoard Saloon was located in a small town known as Desert Rose, deep in the badlands of northern Albara. Desert Rose was the bustling western town that everybody back in the east was writing about. People flocked there to work the mines, build the railroads, or try their hand at cattle ranching. Of course, once they got there they realized creating their fortunes from nothing might not be as easy as they had imagined.

At this moment, early on a Saturday night, the Dragon’s Hoard was filled to the brim with folks from all walks of life. Cowboys and farmhands milled about beside miners and working girls. All of them had spent the week working, and this was the last night they had before their respective churches would try to save their souls on Sunday morning.

At the bar, Tim Bennet was working hard to keep the drinks flowing out and the money flowing in. He had built this place up with his bare hands, back when Desert Rose had been nothing more than a signpost between the last place and the next.

Luckily for Tim, a few miners had hit a deposit of coal not two miles from the place, and ever since then, his little saloon had been the hottest spot in town. Everybody knew Tim, and everybody loved him.

One of the miners sitting at the bar motioned for Tim to come closer, and the barkeep obliged. What is it, Galmar?

Another round fer the boys on me! Galmar Stonecracker cried out, and the room cheered. We hit a good vein today!

A round on the dwarf, Bennet yelled, and a round on the house!

At that, the whole bar exploded in raucous applause. Galmar smiled at Tim and reached over the bar to clap a hand onto the man’s shoulder.

Yer a good man, Tim... Fer a human, that is!

The other dwarves seated around Galmar laughed along with him, one piping up, Bah! Galmar wouldn’t care if ye were a troll, Tim, if ye kept on givin’ him booze!

Bib, given the way you smell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a troll yourself! Tim shot back.

Galmar burst out in a hearty laugh, Gah, he’s right Bib! Yer a right ugly stinkin’ bastard, aren’t ye?!

Bib was about to protest when the door swung open and everyone in the saloon went quiet. All turned to see the newcomer.

There, in the saloon’s doorway, stood an orc over six feet tall with shoulders wide enough to fill up the whole frame. A six-gun showed plainly on his belt, and by the way he carried himself, he knew how to use the thing. The shining star on his chest made his status clear for all to see; he was an Albara Ranger. A bushy mustache sat above his lip, nestled between two sharp tusks. The tall hat upon his head was as white as fresh snow.

The orc’s duster blew with the wind as he stepped inside. His spurred boots and the rest of his clothes were covered in enough dust to make a giant sneeze.

A few of the patrons edged their way toward the door or scooted their chairs deeper into the shadows. Everybody knew that trouble seemed to follow orcs like a bad wind. And a Ranger besides... Well, that just made the chances of drama unfolding that much greater.

Guess they let anybody be a ranger nowadays. Bloody shame, Galmar muttered to no one in particular and spat on the ground.

The orc ranger strode into the room, moving directly to the bar. His boots clacked solidly on the wooden floor as he went, only accentuating the silence of those around him. Choosing a stool directly between a halfling banker and a human rancher, the orc sat at the bar. Both of the patrons stood and walked away from the ranger as he took his seat. He did not seem to notice. If he did notice, then he surely did not care.

Tim sighed and moved over to where the ranger sat. How can I help you, good sir?

The orc looked up, his short tusks gleaming in the soft light of the bar, You have any faerie spirit? It’s been a long ride to get here, and more riding to do in the morning.

Before Tim could answer, Galmar snorted loudly, Bah! A faerie-drinkin’, star-wearin’ orc ranger. I’ve done seen it all now!

The orc did not even turn toward the dwarf miner, keeping his eyes on Tim. Got any?

Tim nodded. Think so, I’ve had a bottle in the backroom for a few years now. Folk round here don’t drink too much of that stuff. I’ll go back and grab it.

I thank you, barkeep, the orc’s voice was gruff, like large stones being ground against each other.

After a few moments, Tim returned with a bottle of bright green liquid. He held the bottle out at arms reach, as if in fear of its contents.

This the stuff? Tim asked.

The ranger grunted his approval, and Tim poured him out a glass. As the barkeep slid the drink across to him, a bit splashed out to land on the old wood countertop. It sizzled lightly and a trail of smoke rose into the air.

The orc grabbed the glass in one big