Page 1 of Stealing the Troll’s Heart

Chapter 1

Telise

In my world, if you don’t eat first, you become the meal. You must have the fastest feet in the woods, the quickest slash with a knife, and the sharpest mind to survive.

Luckily, that’s me. I live in shadows. I learned early how to walk silently, to disguise myself like part of the scenery. I kill before I’m killed. That’s how I’ve lived this long, anyway.

I don’t come out to the Sandteeth often, but there’s just some things you can’t get back home. Most importantly—the Wicke’s Leopard. It’s a tricky bastard to find, for the same reason that its hide is so valuable: Its fur is made to blend into any background perfectly, rendering the wearer of it invisible. If I could get lucky and lay my hands on one, maybe two specimens, the sale of a single cloak could clothe and feed me for a few years, and my trip will be completely worthwhile.

It wasn’t a cheap or a quick trip, either: I took a caravan and did a two-week stint on a ship just to get to this forsakenplace. The mountains are tall and pointed like fangs, and the landscape is unforgiving. I’m glad I brought my own supplies, or enough of them to last me a week before I’ll have to turn around and restock in town.

I’ve had my eye on some droppings for a while. I found them last night and was certain they belonged to my leopard. There are wolves here too, but my hunter’s sense says the shape and stink is right for a big cat.

And yet I’ve been standing in this one spot, watching, for most of the day now without any sign of my prey. Perhaps it was just passing through and doesn’t plan to return this way again. Damn.

No, no, it’s too soon to give up. I have to wait until after sunset, because that’s when the leopards will become most active again.

Rustle.

The shaking of some leaves nearby gives me a start. I make sure the foliage is covering me, especially any metal parts that might reflect the light, and peer out.

Crunch.

It’s a heavy footstep, certainly no leopard. From my vantage point all I can see are a pair of legs and big, thick boots. Another crunch as the heel sends a pebble flying toward me.

“Groken,” a voice says. It’s low and guttural. I know who it belongs to right away. “Savegg kog.”

Trollkin. I’d be able to pick out their barbaric language anywhere. It reminds me of mushy potatoes, all squished and slurred together until the words themselves are nearly indiscernible.

Someone else approaches from behind. One of his trollkin buddies. Supposedly there are differences among them, but to me, they’re all the same: Enemies.

I’ve slit more than one trollkin throat, just like I’ve slit other human throats. My parents would certainly disapprove if they knew how often I found myself in a tete-a-tete with someone who wants to murder me. But that’s how you make it big. You have to be willing to take risks, and I’m nothing if not a thrill-seeker.

The trollkin stomp onward, and now that they’ve disturbed this area, there’s no way my leopard is coming back anytime soon. So I retreat into the bushes and head for a nearby tree. I want to get an idea of who they are and what they’re carrying. Sometimes the easiest way to a good meal is by stealing it off of someone else.

One is blue and one is green, I can tell that much from here. And they’re both carrying money and supplies. The green one is shorter, with little tusks that pull his lips back. The bluish one is taller, with wild, dark red hair and some of it braided, the rest falling into his eyes as he walks. His tusks are longer, more curled. He has a looseness to him, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

That beast will change his tune pretty soon.

I jog on ahead of them, aiming for a tree that they’ll have to walk right underneath. I’m not sure why they’re out here trekking through the woods, when the nearest road is a good five miles off—and then I wonder if perhaps they’re here for the same reason that I am.

The last thing I need is competition. I’d better end this if I can.

Once I reach the tree, I clamber up as quickly and quietly as possible. Barely a leaf shivers under me. I gingerly walk out onto a branch, testing my balance as I go. When I’m as far as I think the branch can bear, I stop moving and reach down to steady myself.

In just a few moments, the two trollkin approach my position. One carries a blunderbuss, the other a rather large axe. The battle axe is both incredibly deadly and mighty unwieldy, so he’ll have a hard time hitting me with it given how fast I can move. The blunderbuss might prove a more significant issue, but it’s still big enough that he’ll need time to ready it, and I’ll have my window to escape.

I should take out the green one before the blue one can even pull out his weapon, but something tells me the blue one is more dangerous. It’s the way he walks with a swagger, and holds himself like he’s relaxing on the beach, but every bare inch of his body is hard muscle and tense sinew. He has large tusks that emerge from each side of his mouth at an angle, with deadly points that curl up in front of him. He could gut a pig with one of those. That’s when I notice he’s swinging a little hatchet around in his hand as if to entertain himself, and I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. It might only be the size of his hand, but it would easily cleave me through the chest and bring an end to my long series of wins.

Then, they’re underneath me. Finally. I drop from the branch like one of my leopard prey, right onto the blue one’s head. I aim with one foot, and he gets a real bonk to the noggin. He stumbles backwards, clutching his face.

“Kaggen!”He’s irate as I drop to the ground. The green one is already pulling out his blunderbuss, but he’s not fast enough. I swing one leg as hard as I can into the back of his knee. I wouldn’t be strong enough on my own to take him down, but if you can aim for a weak spot...

The green one falls to the ground, also cursing. I leap at the blue one again as he struggles to regain his balance and bring the point of my knife to his throat.

Click.

Before I can bury the dagger into thetroll’s flesh, I find the big mouth of the blunderbuss right up against the side of my head.

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